“There are more laughs than might be expected balanced with a poignancy that brought some of this audience close to tears”
Ardent Theatre Company presents the story, written by Tracy Ryan, of nine Irish shopgirls and one shop boy who after refusing to handle South African goods embark on nearly three years of strike action which culminates in a landmark ruling from the Irish parliament.
The set is effectively simple (Designer Libby Watson): a set of double doors in front of which a picket line will be formed for much of the action. The name of the Dublin store Dunnes is spelt out in coloured lights. A monochrome outline of what will become South Africa’s national flag is painted out on the floor.
The story starts within the store itself and a group of high-spirited shop girls are preparing to start work, changing their clothes into the regulation shop uniform. One of them, Mary Manning (Chloe O’Reilly) is about to change their lives forever when following an edict from their Union, she refuses to handle a South African grapefruit. She is duly suspended by the shop management and a walk out in solidarity from all the shopgirls ensues.
From time to time, a narrator tells us where we are. Karen (Jessica Regan) ably takes the brunt of this task but the role is nicely shared around other characters. There are two stories being told here. Firstly, that of the camaraderie and resilience of the striking shop-workers and then that of the bigger picture, the struggle against apartheid in South Africa. Amidst much light-heartedness, a dignity is provided with the arrival of Nimrod Sejake (Mensah Bediako), a South African exile of twenty years and former prison mate of Nelson Mandela. From him the shop-workers (and the audience) learn of the horrors of the apartheid regime and why the strike really matters.
As the story progresses, we learn small bits about each of the strikers in turn. Much amusing repartee forms around the effervescent Liz (Anne O’Riordan); Vonnie (Doireann May White) is in danger of losing her house; Tommy (Adam Isla O’Brien) is beaten up by the Garda in a brilliantly danced solo scene with effective blood red spotlighting (Lighting Designer Jamie Platt). Versatile Paul Carroll takes up the double roles of sleazy tie-fiddling shop manager Paul and Union Leader Brendan with just the change of a sweater and a restyling of his hair.
But this is predominantly an ensemble piece and the slick movement of the group, directed by Kirsty Patrick Ward, is excellent and the sharing of dialogue fluent. Small set pieces within the narrative provide dramatic variety. The ensemble don headscarves to become a group of angry mothers, sport plastic bags and umbrellas for a scene in the rain, sing a beautifully performed rendition of trade union folk classic Which Side Are You On?
There is much to be enjoyed here in a non-stop ninety minutes. There are more laughs than might be expected balanced with a poignancy that brought some of this audience close to tears. The tale is well-presented, brilliantly performed, and, at the same time, both genuinely moving and entertaining.
“Williams brings nuance and care to a conversation that often feels impossible to even broach”
The Fellowship, directed by Paulette Randall, sees writer Roy Williams return to the conversation he began with his 2021 play, Death Of England: Delroy : What does it mean to be black and British? Does it mean something different today compared to, say, twenty, or fifty years ago? Has anything changed? Is change even possible?
Three generations of one family, all living in the UK, all struggling to place themselves within a society that has historically and repeatedly tried to reject and diminish them. The trouble with this line of inquiry is not that it’s not compelling or apposite, but that it’s just so big. So, what we end up with is a near-on three-hour play that rarely takes a breather, and struggles to conclude.
Having grown up in the same hard, harsh environment, with a mother (now ailing off-stage) who came to the UK in the Windrush generation, sisters Marcia and Dawn have responded in contrast. As Marcia says, “You’re nothing but trauma, Dawn, you always have been. And I’ve always been a selfish cow.” In other words, Dawn remains an open wound, unable to heal from society’s repeated othering. Whereas Marcia has decided to take what she can, only looking out for herself. But neither have been able to truly break free.
So we look to the next generation, Dawn’s son Jermaine (Ethan Hazzard) who is in love with a white woman (Rosie Day), but unable to tell his family who consider her the enemy.
It’s an excellent structure for a discussion on racism, inherited trauma, and generational change. But Williams seems incapable of letting a thought hang in the air. Instead, every conversation is double as long as it should be, tracing and retracing what he said, what she said, what everyone did and when they did it. Three hours of yelling ends up sounding like white noise after a while, and though there are plenty of endearing relational minutiae (the sisters bumping boobs, or dancing to white pop music) latticed amongst the intensity, it’s all delivered at the same turbulent place; there’s rarely a minute to breathe.
Cherrelle Skeete and Suzette Llewellyn have an excellent rapport as sisters, which is all the more impressive given that Skeete has only been rehearsing this part for two weeks- Lucy Vandi had to suddenly withdraw due to ill health. In fact, despite occasional scenes holding the script, Skeete is arguably the strongest cast member, flitting between affection and intense rage with veristic ease.
Libby Watson’s design- Scandi sofas and table encircled by a futuristic LED halo, which glows blue or red in accordance with instructions for Alexa- serves as a clean, modern canvas for the chaotic storyline, and sits in clever contrast to the script’s subject, as old as time: Us and Them.
Williams brings nuance and care to a conversation that often feels impossible to even broach. The casting is clever and fun, and there are multiple moments where the audience finds themselves humming in endorsement. But ultimately it just doesn’t feel finished yet; the script needs a red pen and a harsh eye.
