Tag Archives: James McDermott

JAB

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Finborough Theatre

JAB at the Finborough Theatre

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“a lot is packed into this emotionally raw production”

There are two trains of thought about the pandemic. One that it is still too raw to explore in dramatic form; the other that it is old hat, and nobody wants to hear any more about it. But remember it, we all do. James McDermott has distilled those memories into a unique two-hander that follows the breakdown of a relationship, and of society, in tandem. The personal and the panoramic are mirrored effortlessly and it is impossible to remain unaffected by McDermott’s writing.

Anne (Kacey Ainsworth) and Don (Liam Tobin) are approaching their twenty-ninth anniversary, having long reached the comfort zone of the β€˜can’t-live-with-you-can’t-live-without-you’ phase. Affection and irritation go blithely hand in hand; one minute dancing uninhibitedly to the Eurythmics β€˜Sweet Dreams’, spilling wine and laughter in equal measure; the next bickering with jabs that often pierce uncomfortably deep.

From the order to β€˜stay at home’, we follow the pair through the next twelve months. The pandemic itself is initially a backdrop to the minutiae of a marriage, but inevitably it draws in like a rising tide cutting off any escape route. Director Scott Le Crass keeps the actors within this frame of claustrophobia. Like caged animals they pace, sit, stand. Repetitive and functionless. Don at first feels safe. His vintage shop business wasn’t going so well anyway. Anne is twitchier, forced to work from home instead of being on the NHS frontline. She is tired of being the breadwinner, tired of her hot flushes and tired of β€œnon-essential” Don.

“a compelling black comedy”

Although we know that’s not entirely true. Ainsworth is a master performer, eking out the nuances of her layered character. Each word, gesture and expression ring true. Tobin has a similar grasp of realism. They both make the stark shifts of mood believable. We recognise this couple. We are drawn into their individuality, but it is their inter-dependence that has us in an emotional stranglehold right through to – and especially during – the final scenes.

There are many scenes that take us there. Some short, some long, some dark, some light, some wordy, some silent. Jodie Underwood’s lighting slices between them while Adam Langston’s staccato, filmic music stabs at the transitions with Hitchcockian chill. The lights gradually dim in line with the subject matter as the action unfolds, and the comedy ebbs and makes way for the darker hues.

There is an extraordinary attention to detail. Anne’s password, we learn, is β€˜cagedbird’. The transition from drinking from a glass to drinking straight from the bottle. Don tearing up his invitation to be vaccinated. The bursts of the optimistic, upbeat Eurythmic music fade into the scenes on certain lyrics: β€˜some of them want to abuse you…’, or β€˜when depression starts to win…’. These subtleties add poignancy and potency to Ainsworth’s and Tobin’s already powerful performance.

In a little over an hour, a lot is packed into this emotionally raw production. The words crackle with meaning, but so do the silences. β€œJab” is a compelling black comedy. I definitely urge you to catch it (words I probably wouldn’t have chosen during the pandemic).

 


JAB at the Finborough Theatre

Reviewed on 23rd February 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Steve Gregson

 


 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

THE WIND AND THE RAIN | β˜…β˜…β˜… | July 2023
SALT-WATER MOON | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2023
PENNYROYAL | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | July 2022
THE STRAW CHAIR | β˜…β˜…β˜… | April 2022
THE SUGAR HOUSE | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2021

JAB

JAB

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Time and Tide

Time and Tide

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Park Theatre

Time and Tide

Time and Tide

Park Theatre

Reviewed – 7th February 2020

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“There are a lot of good things going on, but it feels a little too focussed on getting several points across”

 

Relish Theatre’s new play by James McDermott is set in Cromer in Norfolk, a town that is going through an influx of chain stores and cafes and, maybe, losing its soul. May, played by Wendy Nottingham, in in her fifties and runs a good old fashioned caff at the end of the pier, which may become a Pret a Manger if she sells it. Should she stay or sell up? Ken delivers bread around the town, as he has every day for forty years. What will happen to him if the traditional places close down? Nemo is about to leave and follow his dream, becoming a drama student in London. Daz is staying put, can’t see what’s wrong with Cromer, can’t see what’s right about going to college. Nobody acknowledges their feelings, but Nemo is gay and thinks he is in love with Daz, his best mate. Daz is straight, or is he?

Time and Tide got off to a rather slow start as May and Nemo prepared the cafe for opening. Their relationship was nicely established, with May’s love of old films and Nemo’s doubts creating a believable friendship between this unlikely pair. The first odd directorial decision was when the lights dimmed, and the tables were cleaned for a second time. It’s little things like this that can throw an audience off from the world of the play. β€˜But Nemo just cleaned the tables with the squirty bottle and kitchen towel, and arranged the salt and pepper. Why are they doing it again?’ Sadly it wasn’t the only time more aware direction would have been advisable. Ken came in with his bread and gave an enjoyable comic focus to the scene, adding an obvious attraction to May into the mix, Paul Easom managed not to turn Ken into a stock comic character, giving him a vulnerability underneath the comedy that was likeable and sweet. It was all rather charming, but the underlying litany of chain stores taking over the high street felt a bit artificial; more a point to be made than an integral part of the story. it is an important theme in the tale, but the lack of subtlety was wearing.

The central relationship is that of Nemo and Daz, played by Josh Barrow and Elliot Liburd. Barrow’s Nemo was delightful in his insecurity, likeable, wavering and sad. Liburd was the polar opposite, bringing a much needed energy; a loud, sweary cheeky lad down the pub. The two friends had a lot going on beneath the surface, and it had to come out. I don’t want to give away what happens, but at one point Nemo ended up on the floor, at the feet of the audience, and stayed there for quite a while. This made him invisible to at least half the room at a key point in the play. It’s a mistake often made in small theatres, and I wish directors would sit in the back row during rehearsals, with people in front of them and think about positioning.

James McDermott has written a sort of love story to old English seaside towns, as well as a story of different kinds of love between people. There are a lot of good things going on, but it feels a little too focussed on getting several points across. Director Rob Ellis almost succeeded in making it work, but someone needs to tell him that when something is thrown through a window from inside the broken glass is going to be mostly outside, not all over the floor.

 

Reviewed by Katre

Photography by Gail Harland

 


Time and Tide

Park Theatre until 29th February

 

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:
The Weatherman | β˜…β˜…β˜… | August 2019
Black Chiffon | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | September 2019
Mother Of Him | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | September 2019
Fast | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2019
Stray Dogs | β˜… | November 2019
Sydney & The Old Girl | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2019
Martha, Josie And The Chinese Elvis | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | December 2019
The Snow Queen | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | December 2019
Rags | β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2020
Shackleton And His Stowaway | β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2020

 

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