We thought the ‘80s under the Tories were bad, but this bitter-sweet-in-aspic two-hander from All Things Considered theatre company allows us a punchy whistle stop reminder of the privations and joys of growing up working class in that era when we were unreliably informed that there was no such thing as society.
Writer-performers Stuart Crowther & Emma Bramley draw on their childhood memories & play themselves in this fizzy, tragi-comic musing on how upbringing shapes your identity and the strategies we adopt to fit in.
As befits a company who specialise in immersive, socially engaged and intimate theatre, the audience are involved in identifying their own class bias and allegiances before even entering the auditorium; we are asked to choose a badge to wear: are you an aspirational Hyacinth Bucket, an Eastenders’ Ethel or a true Blue Margo Leadbetter? Inside the theatre space, littered from a particular time with a wooden drying maiden, a rotary phone and, for the pre-Primark generation, a bin bag full of hand-me-downs for the poor kid (‘from the market’), the cast sport '70’s tabards and gear up.
Essentially the piece is a duologue, as the pair spar their different experiences of class & the north/south divide, with Crowther, an out-and-proud Rochdale lad secure in his working class identity, calling out Bramley, the southern child of a working class father and an upper middle class mother, growing up in relative poverty and suffering class confusion whilst desiring fervently to fit in. During a monologue or a reminiscence, each will puncture the narrative with the question to the other, ‘Is that true or a lie?’ highlighting the self-fabrication and untruths we tell even ourselves to make the past more palatable.
There are some moments of genuinely heart-wrenching emotion, particularly when Bramley’s nine-year-old self excitedly ransacks a bin-bag of second-hand clothes for an outfit to wear to a ‘posh’ children’s party - and then is horribly bullied once the adults have left the room - and conveying with fake insouciance the indignity of standing in the free school meals' line, pretending she is fine; balancing these poignant enactments is Crowther’s high octane evocation of hanging out at the Castleton Moor Conservative Club, presided over by the brassy, mouthy hostess and karaoke queen ‘Bar-ber-a’ prancing around in sequins and verbally abusing the punters. Bramley’s nervous, Tigger-ish energy as an eager-to-please child contrasts nicely with Crowther’s self-assured and in-control swagger.
This is a high energy celebration – and sometimes lamentation – for a past time, studded with Vaudevillian touches, pop karaoke, performance poetry, dance, monologue, flashback and (day) dream sequences, and references a dizzying kaleidoscope of familiar ‘80's images and sounds from TV adverts, soaps and political footage.
This is a show that could easily have tipped into some rosy-tinted nostalgia-fest, but by suffusing the past with meaningful, painful and pathos-ridden memories and leavening humour – alongside the references to Fray Bentos pies and Tammy Girl – it deftly swerves any hint of self-indulgence. (It helps that the relationship between Crowther and Bramley is full of warmth, banter and bitchiness.)
This is the second time I’ve seen the play and it seems richer, deeper and has more resonance this time around. The audience gave it an expected and deserved ovation. My only subjective cavil is that I wanted more; I wanted to see the jump from childhood to the places that the performers occupy now: how did they end up succeeding in a system that was automatically weighted against them? (Crowther is a now lecturer, and Bramley a teacher and theatre-maker). How they survived and thrived might hold some lessons for us all.
What does it mean to skip a class, to feel underneath like the outsider, that you’re blagging and chameleon-like playing a part, that you can fit in everywhere but nowhere? And what scars might you sustain as a result? Or what happens when you’re so resolutely, loudly defiantly yourself that you end up challenging the whole world to accept you on your own terms? These questions, although superficially obscured by the fast-paced surface dazzle and comedy of the piece, are what lie at the play’s heart, and in a country where a seemingly unassailable right wing government is now delineating speedily a widening gulf between rich and poor, they’re more necessary to ask than ever.
Reviewer - Tracy Ryan
on - 6/2/20
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