“The characters are shallow, the plot non-existent, and the music counterintuitive”
“I’m pregnant” – so say the leading ladies of Baby in its first scene. And its third scene. And its final scene. Actually, the whole show is some variation of “I’m pregnant” or, in at least one case – spoiler alert – “I’m not pregnant”. Can a full-length musical dedicated to the idea of having a baby be boring? Hey, you said it, not me.
Baby was first produced on Broadway, in the 1980s, where it ran, modestly, for less than year. The show oozes an 80s aesthetic, as well as 80s cultural values, and there is a fair number of groans – landlines, moustaches, instances of casual misogyny. (How disappointing that, in the same month that Marianne Elliott took a 70s relic and made it fresh in Company, Baby director Mark Kelly somehow added ten years to his source material).
Baby doesn’t have much of a plot. Three couples learn they are pregnant; two of these pregnancies are unplanned. The couples are spuriously linked through one university where the men work or study, although this link is superfluous; the characters are united and reunited throughout the show by a series of awkward coincidences – bumping into each other on the street, that sort of thing.
The music in Baby is jaunty, except for the occasional wailer, and helps to carry the bizarre current of pep that zips through the score like Larry Bird on Diet Coke. The lyrics do tend to get a bit out there, taking intimate, personal moments, and throwing them into abstraction. Take, for example, the opening number, which I guess is about the process of conception:
Stop the moment, Take it in, Can’t you feel, The change begin?, Don’t you feel, The cosmic surge, As two lives begin to merge?
From my seat in row E there was no cosmic surge, but maybe you need to be closer to the stage.
Considering the drudge that is the source material, the cast do good work. Laurel Dougall as Pam Sakarian, a gym teacher who is desperate to get pregnant, is full of vim and tragedy, and really steals the show in act 2. Holli Paige Farr plays Lizzie Fields, a college student who gets knocked up by her boyfriend, cleverly and with dignity; she rises above the text.
The set design is minimal, but effective, and the costumes certainly bring home the 80s theme, although I can’t for the life of me figure out why the ensemble are so often dressed in baseball jerseys when they are not, in fact, playing baseball.
Baby was not a smash in 1983, and it has even less going for it now. The characters are shallow, the plot non-existent, and the music counterintuitive. Still, there are some good performances in this production at the Drayton Arms, and theatregoers should take note of the names Laurel Dougall and Holli Paige Farr, who, given better material, may one day really be able to send out those cosmic surges.
“Yates is especially entertaining as the young Danny, equal parts cocky and clueless”
Ian Callaway learned the ins and outs of the English criminal justice system as a prosecutor in both Kent and London, where, for more than two decades, he argued against every manner of crook and criminal. Since retiring from the law, Callaway has adapted his experiences into Honour Amongst Thieves, a farcical look at three petty lawbreakers as they stand before justice.
Maurice, Pete, and Danny span three generations and three degrees of degeneracy; they are each being charged with petty crimes, ranging from theft to drunk and disorderly conduct. As they meet in the hall outside the courtroom, they chat, argue, and boast about their past exploits and future conquests. Soon, they are brought to trial one by one, and, facing a wickedly clever prosecutor and unimpressed judge, find themselves stripped of their bravado.
This is probably the main motif of Honour Amongst Thieves: the flimsiness of male machismo. We watch with bemusement as three tough blokes, each sure of his own power and immortality, are made feeble before the law. In the age of #metoo and concerns over toxic masculinity, it is comforting, and especially gratifying, to watch justice do its business, and to be reminded that alpha males can be taken down, sometimes in minutes, by a lawyer in leopard-print ballet shoes.
Antony Dowd, R. Louis Segal and Aaron Yates all do great work as the three crooks, although Yates is especially entertaining as the young Danny, equal parts cocky and clueless. Also worthy of commendation is Cynon Lewis as the judge, who, in rather few words, sums up a lifetime of exasperation. Director Dina Yates has put together a fine show that moves expeditiously but does not sacrifice any of its humour. Although the ending of the play is a bit odd, Honour Amongst Thieves is a clever, often hilarious look at the Magistrates Court and the people who inhabit it.
