Luke Hereford’s solo autobiographical show is a musical journey through his life growing up in Wales, discovering his queerness, and his relationship with his nan, who also happens to be his number one fan, and his best friend. Set at her ninetieth birthday party, Hereford is joined on stage by pianist Bobby Harding, who accompanies them with a soundtrack of Kylie, Kate Bush, and Meet Me in St Louis.
There’s a lot to admire in the show. It’s sort of fabulously chaotic, a little bit messy, which kind of suits the tone as Hereford plays dress up with items from his grandmother’s onstage wardrobe. It’s old fashioned, the insides patterned with pale pink florals. On the other side of the stage is a dressing table, draped with a few bits of Nan’s jewellery and perfume bottles; a hollow mirror, which Harding pokes their head behind, sat at the piano. Hereford narrates stories of his first time at pride (with Nan providing the lube and condoms), and their trip to Broadway together, to see eight shows in five days. But Nan, as later revealed, has dementia. And it’s heartbreaking for Hereford, and us, to see her memories fading. She’s his biggest icon. But, as he eventually realises, ‘even if your memory fades, I’ll always have them, even if you don’t’.
The musical numbers and staging are generally a bit all over the place. Hereford doesn’t have the strongest vocals, and sometimes loses control of the performance as he tries to get through the songs. He’s certainly very committed to the act, which is commendable, but some tighter direction or choreography could really help give each of the segments a bit more purpose. In one section he sort of waves a large white sheet around, and I’m not really sure what’s happening.
The action of trying to get the lipstick on properly, and then finally getting it right, gives the show a really nice overall character arc. We feel by the end that Hereford does now have what they need to be their true self, even if Nan isn’t around anymore in the way she used to be. A messy first half turns into a touching second, but the show as a whole needs quite a bit of tidying up to become something really special.
Reviewed 13th August 2022
by Joseph Winer
Photography by Kirsten McTernan
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“Joe McArdle and Ronnie Yorke provide a terrific double act as the loud-mouthed Dave and Pete, proving the traditional loutish view of the English abroad”
Forty years ago the ground-breaking Finborough Theatre opened its doors for the first time. To celebrate its anniversary it presents the first new UK production in 40 years of Paul Kember’s award-winning 1980 comedy-drama “Not Quite Jerusalem.”
First seen at the Royal Court the play has some staying power, not least because it proves that nothing changes: the shock is that it could have been written yesterday.
Four young people escape a divided England and lives they would rather forget for an Israeli kibbutz, which they think will be a fun working holiday with sun, sex and sightseeing. In reality they upset their hosts, alienate their fellow kibbutzniks and suffer hard labour in the blistering heat.
On the surface the play is a perfectly respectable comedy drama with a romantic interest, comic characters and a taste of what was, for many young people of the time, an exciting and exotic way of taking time out discovering the world.
Taking that side alone it is true that the piece feels a little dated. But what director Peter Kavanagh and the six-strong cast achieve is to tease out the shadowy heart of the work, which reflects on the sensibilities of life in England’s green and pleasant land and to glimpse ourselves as others see us in an uncomfortable culture clash.
The four youngsters couldn’t be more different: there’s Mike, the laid back Cambridge student who simply walked out of his course and out of contact with his parents; Carrie, the nervous aspiring artist with issues; Dave, the vulgar northerner; and Essex lad Pete, constantly keen to check out the local talent. Also at hand are the kibbutz manager Ami and a fiery and plain-speaking Israeli girl Gila.
Kember doesn’t make it easy to like any of these characters and none of them is particularly well-drawn apart from Mike. So it is to the credit of the performers that they manage to drag the play away from its regular big speeches and navel-gazing to present genuine people in an authentic setting with all too real problems.
Ryan Whittle’s languid Mike starts out by sharing the laziness of the other Brits, but we gain insight into his passions and patriotism. He is well-balanced by the most interesting character, Ailsa Joy’s spirited Gila, and the careful contrast of their performances make their tentative romance all the more credible as both so fiercely represent their cultures and homelands.
Joe McArdle and Ronnie Yorke provide a terrific double act as the loud-mouthed Dave and Pete, proving the traditional loutish view of the English abroad. Their version of “Underneath the Arches,” as part of an entertainment where all the kibbutzniks have to perform something that represents their country, is a comic delight with an ending that says all there is to say about how disgruntled and browbeaten Englanders see their identity.
Miranda Braun does well with the slightly-written Carrie, the undeserving butt of so many of Dave and Pete’s remarks, though it’s hard to deal with the character’s inconsistency from one scene to the next. Russell Bentley holds things nicely together as a calm Ami.
The staging has seating on three sides which gives a suitably claustrophobic feel to the kibbutz set (Ceci Calf) and there are some beautiful moments in the lighting (Ryan Stafford), particularly when the Middle Eastern sun beams life, light and promise through the wooden slats.
“Not Quite Jerusalem” has not quite survived the test of time, but still manages to come across thanks to this production as a disturbing and challenging state of the nation commentary.
