“Mind Full is funny, but sometimes feels uncertain”
This intimate comedy takes a look at two universal frustrations: struggling to sleep and struggling to get over someone.
James (Tom Hartwell) is a self-diagnosed insomniac. He knows he is because he Googled it at 4am. He hasn’t slept well since his terrible break up, six months ago. In his desperation he turns to mindfulness apps. But his ex is a thriving voiceover actor. He can’t get her voice out of his head. Or his headphones. At first it seems to be just him who’s struggling, but we soon learn Claire (Katherine Moran) can’t sleep either. The former couple cycle through memories of their failed relationship as they struggle to move on and find some much needed shut eye.
We’re welcomed into the bedroom, with the space being dominated by a large double bed, and off to the side, a microphone. Conor Cook’s direction really pays off here, as the microphone creates the world of the couple’s respective work (voice acting and stand-up comedy) and the bed creates their private world. The interference and sabotage between these worlds, sometimes funny, sometimes moving, works well to show the crumbling of the relationship.
It’s a funny idea, and there are moments where it really takes off There’s a long bit where James comments on all of the places he hears Claire’s voice – apps, supermarket checkouts, train announcements – and what she might be saying to him (lots of jokes at the expense of his sexual prowess). The script, written by Tom Hartwell, who also plays James, is packed with gags. At times though the comedy takes priority, to the detriment of emotional truth. To be fair, sometimes that’s the point. The play deals with questions around comedy, and how much of your own life, and the lives of people you love, is fair game. As with any piece which incorporates stand-up, it does raise the question of how much of it is meant to be funny. There is a mortifying moment where James fluffs it at Live at the Apollo, made weirder by the taped in applause of a fake audience, leaving the real audience a little uncertain of our place in the show.
There is real chemistry between Hartwell and Moran, and the early stages of their relationship are charming. Moran is particularly strong, making a potentially whiny character, warm, hilarious and totally reasonable. Hartwell is also very funny, and his comic timing is impeccable.
The simple lighting (Jonathan Simpson) and sound (Conor Cook) help to create the private bubble of this couple’s life.
Mind Full is funny, but sometimes feels uncertain. It’s not quite stand-up, and not quite plot focussed narrative, at times it verges on sketch comedy. But it’s enjoyable, fast-paced and well-performed.
Hen is the debut play written by Josh Husselbee and directed by Sarah Fox. It tells the story of Alister (George Fletcher) and Andrew (Oliver Lyndon) who are privileged friends sharing a flat in east London.
Following his recovery from a recent overdose, and the death of his mother, Alister is bequeathed a hen through his mother’s will, and must persuade his flatmate to help keep her alive in order to inherit the family money.
Alister had strained relationships with both his parents, and his attempts to become a better person for his mother’s posthumous forgiveness put him in a situation we could only imagine of having to deal with. The line from his mother’s voicemail to him of “some people are just born rotten” hits a nerve and sets the tone for how we see Alister. He is not failing, he is struggling.
Flatmate Andrew does not need a job, focussing instead on various girls and spending money to keep him occupied. It’s clear he wants to be in control of situations, to the point of being manipulative at times. This homosocial relationship between Alister and Andrew is fractious – whilst moments are bonding and raw, the anger and lack of understanding of each other’s circumstances is obvious. They are both extremely lost, trying to find a purpose.
The comedic delivery of the play uses the hen to represent the chaotic reality of life, the messy situations and the anger at what we are dealt; mix that with how to look after a hen, and a lot of eggs and excrement in a two bedroomed flat, and you are provided with a strong blend to a dark narrative.
Both George Fletcher and Oliver Lyndon provide raw, gut-wrenching performances in the play, having a great chemistry to hit the anger and grief, to then play off each other when the chaos of looking after a chicken ensues.
The tiny playing space at The Hope easily becomes the boys’ flat, a few chairs here and there and a circular yellow rug on the white floor (no coincidence this looks rather egg-like). Clever lighting in such a small venue is a joy and the sound too is spot on. Design of all these elements comes from Sarah Fox and Josh Husselbee.
The ending for me leaves more questions than we started with, and I couldn’t quite grasp the final concept. I feel it’s a representation of what is real, and what we wish to be real, but I do wonder what the original interpretation was meant to be.
Hen hits you in the gut then gives you the punch line moments later. It is a dark, longing, and purposeful play, and every individual can draw their own conclusions from its personal message.
