Tag Archives: DANI ARLINGTON

POSSUM TROT

★★★

Theatre at the Tabard

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

POSSUM TROT

POSSUM TROT

ST MAUD

★★★

Live Theatre

ST MAUD at the Live Theatre

★★★

“has the potential to go bigger, better and smarter to raise the hairs on the back of necks of everyone who dares come along”

Saint Maud at Live theatre is a murky journey of religion, death, and neglect. The story follows Maud (played by Brogan Gilbert) who is a nurse and devote believer, caring for Amanda (Dani Arlington), an atheistic ex-dancer struggling through end-of-life care. As the audience catch snapshots of Maud’s pleas to a higher power for a sign of any kind of recognition and connection, and her mission to “save” Amanda before it is too late, there is a creeping sense that all is not what as it seems.

The show is advertised as an intense watch, so it’s fair to arrive with expectations of how the company might deliver on an unsettling and shocking experience. The overall vision, though clearly thought-through and well-crafted, is unfortunately underwhelming. Admittedly, there are aspects of real majesty woven through this piece (particularly Alison Ashton’s design and Drummond Orr’s lighting); as roses are dug from sand and heaps of hair unravel from drawers, stunningly chilling lighting pulls tableaus together aptly. Starting strong, Matthew Tuckey’s sound design immediately sets a haunting scene. However, lacklustre voice overs, repetitive design motifs, and non-committal audio visuals unfortunately draw the attention away from the suspenseful magic that the heights of Maud’s sound design reach.

Transitions are directed smoothly and acted with desperate tenderness. A real strength that could be pulled out even more is the stylised movement and dance motifs which flutter through the story. Upping the stakes visually and going even further with this would inject further drama into the writing. The use of pyrotechnic effects and gauze are especially effective in drawing through scenes of isolation and damnation through the piece and are best used in the sparing moments which do garner shock or chills from the audience.

The staging is largely dynamic and presents gorgeous stills of vulnerability from actors who are pushed to the brink and demonstrate impressive range. As Maud comes into conflict with Carol, a sex worker and mother begging to provide comfort to Amanda (played by Neshla Caplan), the direction feels more fine-tuned and moving.

A clearer sense of place, time, and meaning might ground this show in something more tangible and detailed. Jack McNamara’s direction lacks clarity, and Jessica Andrews’ ambiguous writing leaves the audience asking for more. Narrative and storytelling cliches clash frustratingly with the eery helplessness and lovely poetic language (explorations of seaside deindustrialisation are, in all fairness, well-thought through and well-done). Unfortunately, the play meanders down too many paths and struggles to build and maintain tension where it is sorely needed. At every other turn, it is difficult not to feel let down by the lack of commitment to the imagining of horror as a genre; where we have hints of unnerving physicality and glimpses of body horror, these ideas are not fully followed through.

Saint Maud misses the mark in pulling off an experience which keeps an audience on their toes. The play sets up so much that could be ignited but does not come to fruition in any meaningfully daring way. As actors vanish into thin air and technical design elements arise in clever ways throughout, it’s evident Saint Maud has the potential to go bigger, better and smarter to raise the hairs on the back of necks of everyone who dares come along.

 


ST MAUD at the Live Theatre

Reviewed on 17th October 2024

by Molly Knox

Photography by Von Fox Promotions

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

Previously reviewed by Molly

MAISIE ADAM: APPRAISAL | ★★★★ | TYNE THEATRE & OPERA HOUSE | October 2024
IS THE WI-FI GOOD IN HELL? | ★★★★★ | EDINBURGH FESTIVAL FRINGE | August 2024
MY MOTHER’S FUNERAL:THE SHOW | ★★★★★ | EDINBURGH FESTIVAL FRINGE | August 2024
CRYING SHAME | ★★★★★ | EDINBURGH FESTIVAL FRINGE | August 2024
TIT SWINGERS | ★★★★ | EDINBURGH FESTIVAL FRINGE | August 2024

ST MAUD

ST MAUD

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