POSSUM TROT

Theatre at the Tabard

★★★

“the innate awkwardness of humdrum humanity is finely portrayed”

Apparently, there are five Possum Trots in the United States. In Alabama, Kentucky, Missouri, Texas and Virginia. All of them desolate backwaters – what are referred to as an ‘unincorporated area’, which basically means that they are not really legally recognised as existing. In fact, all that is left of the one in Missouri is a one-room school, a house and a closed down general store. A ghost town, no less. The “Possum Trot” in which Kathy Rucker’s new play is set is fictional, but its title has a ring of truth about it, which is reflected in the natural and authentic depiction of the handful of oddballs that are clinging on to keep their community alive. On top of this, regular tornados further threaten to wipe the town completely off the map.

Rucker’s play explores the challenges encountered by one family as it faces the collapse of the farming community, the exodus of its population and the climate disasters raining down like military attacks, forcing the people to scuttle down to their basement on an almost daily basis. They’re a stoic lot, and humour fuels their determination to carry on. Rucker is focusing on the unpretentious simplicity of everyday life; and what we witness in the short hour-and-a-quarter is the eye of the storm. Aside from a couple of upturned chairs (which happens in blackout) “Possum Trot” is a gentle affair. Almost inconsequential. Like the town itself, it doesn’t appear to be going anywhere.

Maxine (Sarah Berger) runs the fort. Or rather, she runs the only diner in town. Reuben Speed’s set is the real thing. Brilliantly authentic, it transforms the whole space into Maxine’s diner come café come bar come local hub. Berger adds to the realism as she shuffles on in the dismal dawn’s early light to open up for the day, wearing her stoicism like a tattered apron. We think we are in the latter part of the twentieth century until Maxine’s extended family wander in wielding mobile phones and Instagram stories. In particular Neve Francis’ sprightly hypochondriac Billie – the granddaughter whose dream of escaping to art college is about to be realised, despite a very significant personal crisis that pops up – which is never really explored satisfactorily. The middle generation come in the form of chalk and cheese couple, Jeremiah (Nikolas Salmon) and Pru (Dani Arlington). Salmon represents the sense of tradition, desperate to live up to his father’s name, while Arlington’s Pru tries to drag him into the present and get him to sell up the farm. If the dwindling economy doesn’t soon kill off the cattle, the weather will. A comic moment involves the rescuing of a poor cow who finds itself on the roof after a particularly bad Kansas-like gale.

In the family’s midst is village local, Duane (Todd Boyce) and his stream of bad dad-jokes which repeatedly misfire, deliberately failing to puncture the chaotic dramas unfolding within the close-knit family. Scott Le Crass respectfully directs by playing down the drama, avoiding heightened histrionics. These are ordinary people after all, and the innate awkwardness of humdrum humanity is finely portrayed. It starts with a wake (Maxine is recently widowed), continues with a celebration (the diner is fifty years old) and ends with a joke (which unfortunately has little to do with the narrative).

Like the landlocked town of Possum Trot itself, Rucker’s play is neither here nor there. Yet there is an appealing, understated charm that does draw you in; like you’re discovering a single episode of a soap opera. We find ourselves wanting more. If only we could scroll through to the back stories, or forward to future instalments. And Hannah Bracegirdle’s country-tinged soundtrack is spot on; from Bruce Springsteen’s opening harmonica of ‘Nebraska’, through to the closing notes of Bob Dylan’s achingly beautiful ‘Shelter from the Storm’. This play won’t necessarily kick up a storm, but its mix of poignancy and humour is quietly soothing, like the muffled roll thunder heard from a safe distance.

POSSUM TROT

Theatre at the Tabard

Reviewed on 14th November 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Bonnie Britain

Previously reviewed at this venue:

WODEHOUSE IN WONDERLAND | ★★★★ | July 2025

THE BUSINESS OF MURDER | ★★★ | October 2024

DUET | ★★★ | April 2024

THE SECRET GARDEN | ★★★★ | December 2023

ABOUT BILL | ★★★★★ | August 2023

POSSUM TROT

★★★★

“amidst a mixed bag in terms of design and script, there lays a five-star performance from Cary Crankson”

At least on the face of it, or on any level I can fathom, Simon Stephens’ ‘Country Music’ is not about country music – much to the disappointment, I presume, of the front row who have all come prepared in their rhinestone cowboy hats. The set (Liam Shea), consisting of a raised platform with ropes pulling tight at its corners – a boxing ring? Or maybe a boat? – is another red herring. Whatever it’s meant to be, it’s unclear.

But beyond this initial confusion is a beautiful ninety minute performance. Cary Crankson plays the part of Jamie with such pain-staking nuance – the slight drawl, almost rhythmic; wide eyes and slow but purposeful movements conveying both psychopathic aggression and boyish sweetness – it’s near impossible to imagine him playing any other role. We follow him over a twenty year span, first as a thuggish eighteen-year-old running away from a violent crime, with fifteen-year-old Lynsey (Rebecca Stone), then ten years later, on his second stint in prison with visiting stepbrother Matty (Dario Coates), and finally as a repentant middle-aged man with a daughter he hardly knows (Frances Knight), before winding back twenty years to a sunny afternoon just before it all went irreversibly wrong.

Plot details are drip-fed organically via casual conversation, leaving the audience to work a little to put the pieces together, but the characters are so well developed, there is the impression that the performers know their parts far beyond what the script alone has given them. The dialogue is perfectly paced, allowing for believable patter – funny silences trying to chew through a sweet, accidentally talking over each other, strained small-talk when it’s clear so much more is going unsaid.

Creative lighting (Benny Goodman) and sound are used almost exclusively between scenes to denote a leap in years – Kid-A-style snippets pair with slowly pulsating yellow lighting, like an old movie projector. The abrupt lack of any distractions during the scenes, in comparison to these poetic passages of time, creates an honest starkness. There are no jazz hands, no light relief, except that which the characters themselves create – a small joke or two, eked out amidst moments of distress and frustration.

All of this added up, however, doesn’t quite make a full plot. Either it should have been a half hour shorter – a perfect tableau of a man’s life – or it needed a second half. There is no excess, and the audience is focussed throughout, but in short, Scott Le Crass’ direction sees a beautiful and heart-breaking portrayal of an unfinished story. That said, amidst a mixed bag in terms of design and script, there lays a five-star performance from Cary Crankson. Whilst his co-stars all fulfil their duties honourably, Crankson’s ability is masterful, taking this production from mediocre to a must-see.

Reviewed by Miriam Sallon

Photography by Bonnie Britain

POSSUM TROT

Theatre at the Tabard

★★★

“the innate awkwardness of humdrum humanity is finely portrayed”

POSSUM TROT

Theatre at the Tabard

Reviewed on 14th November 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Bonnie Britain

Previously reviewed at this venue:

POSSUM TROT

POSSUM TROT

POSSUM TROT

Omnibus Theatre

Reviewed – 31st May 2019

★★★★

“amidst a mixed bag in terms of design and script, there lays a five-star performance from Cary Crankson”

Reviewed by Miriam Sallon

Photography by Bonnie Britain

Country Music

Omnibus Theatre until 23rd June

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:

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