Tag Archives: Rachael Nanyonjo

MY MOTHER’S FUNERAL

★★★★★

The Yard Theatre

MY MOTHER’S FUNERAL

The Yard Theatre

★★★★★

“fresh and funny and angry”

Abigail’s mother has died and she can’t afford the funeral. This simple fact drives a play that spirals in different directions, examining class inequality, the consequences of revealing your trauma for art commissions, the different sides of a parent that children can experience. All of this is considered through a warm and darkly comic lens.

Abigail (Nicole Sawyerr) is a writer and as the middle-class theatre commissioner keeps reminding her, she is a writer who grew up on a council estate. As her brother keeps reminding her, she is the only one from ‘around here’ who goes to this theatre. The disconnect between audience and experience is stark. Realising that the only way she can afford a funeral is to get a commission (the theatre didn’t like her piece about gay bugs in space, they want something through her ‘unique lens’) Abigail finds herself writing a play about a woman who can’t afford her mother’s funeral. But as the theatre people workshop her experiences into caricature and the money seems ever elusive, Abigail must wrestle with the ethics of what she is doing, while also grieving her mother.

The themes are complicated and hard-hitting. There are so many moments in this play where you want a chance to stop and think, to consider the point that’s just been made. But that’s not allowed, the pace is careening, a whirlwind of grief and exploitation that mirrors the chaotic aftermath of a death.

Kelly Jones’ script is layered, complex and slippery. The jokes are packed in, managing to have us laughing through gritted teeth at the out of touch theatre people, and laughing with moist eyes at some of the softer, quieter moments. It’s an angry script, and rightly so. Many people won’t know how expensive funerals have become (the costs have risen 126% in the last 20 years) and might not know about what happens if you can’t afford it. This is a story that’s worth telling, but by adding the complexity of Abigail wrestling with telling it, Jones elevates this piece to a broader critique of class and the arts and the cluelessness of those in power.

Charlotte Bennett’s direction is energetic and slick. The three performers dart about the stage, their tangled emotions explored in masterful light and shade. Sawyerr as Abigail quivers with tension, trapped in an impossible situation. Samuel Armfield is maddening as the theatre commissioner, and extremely moving as Abigail’s brother Darren, whose memories of their mother are more complicated and his grief harder to grapple with. Debra Baker plays both Linda the mother and the Actor who will perform as the mother in the play Abigail is writing. This is a stroke of genius to twist the knife of Abigail’s pain. Baker slips effortlessly between the two, as well as doing a hilarious turn as a set builder, throwing mud everywhere for the ‘authentic working-class experience’.

Rhys Jarman’s set begins simply, with a small two-levelled stage at the centre. As the play within a play develops, the set design becomes more involved and a grave is revealed. There is something sickeningly powerful about an on-stage grave. It’s a brilliant choice.

This play is fresh and funny and angry. It deservedly won a Scotsman Fringe First Award for new writing at the 2024 Edinburgh Fringe. In combining the universal and the specific it’s found a powerful niche. It’s just shy of harrowing, but it’s certainly worth your time.



MY MOTHER’S FUNERAL

The Yard Theatre

Reviewed on 30th January 2025

by Auriol Reddaway

Photography by Nicola Young

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

PERKY NATIVITITTIES | ★★★★ | December 2024
THE FLEA | ★★★★★ | October 2024
THE FLEA | ★★★★ | October 2023

MY MOTHER’S FUNERAL

MY MOTHER’S FUNERAL

MY MOTHER’S FUNERAL

 

 

BOYS FROM THE BLACKSTUFF

★★★★

UK Tour

BOYS FROM THE BLACKSTUFF

Theatre Royal Windsor

★★★★

“Tragedy and farce link arms and are not afraid to share the same lines of dialogue.”

Although Alan Bleasdale wrote the original series of television plays before Margaret Thatcher came to power, it wasn’t first broadcast until 1982 and was consequently seen to be a specific critique of the Thatcher era. His writing, though, had a far more wide-ranging effect that guaranteed the success of the stories. The nostalgic and gritty realism still holds power nearly half a century later, as evidenced by James Graham’s stirring adaptation for the stage, currently on a nationwide tour.

The early nineteen-eighties were different things for different people. At one end of the scale there were the rich and ambitious, riding on progress and the jetstream of new money. But while Harry Enfield parodied this selfishness of the yuppie culture (we all remember the ‘Loadsamoney’ character?), Bleasdale was focusing on the underside; the high unemployment and collapse of the primary industries. “Boys form the Blackstuff” follows five working class men trying to keep afloat amid this recession, not helped by the suspicious and bullying hand of the Department of Employment.

Amy Jane Cook’s brutalist and severe set evokes the Liverpool docklands with its iron frameworks which close in on the more intimate scenes, lending an air of claustrophobia to the domestic bickering that runs parallel to the collective fight for survival that these characters are up against. Kate Wasserberg’s stylish direction weaves the short scenes together into a series of choreographed vignettes that flow, then clash like freshwater rapids coming up against the murkiness and remorselessness of the Mersey.

We get to know the principal characters early on (if we don’t know them already). Chrissie, Loggo, Yosser, George, Dixie and Snowy. Even if you are unfamiliar with the original, and once you’ve acclimatised to the authentic Liverpudlian accent, their stories are easy to follow. The performances of each cast member are strikingly individual and recognisable. Obviously, Jay Johnson’s ‘Yosser’ stands out from the crowd with his peppered catchphrases (‘gizza job’ and ‘I could do that’) and jittery, unpredictable energy. We realise that this could be a play about mental health – a sudden understanding that whisks the narrative into the present day but without the unease of having to tread carefully through contemporary fragility. Words of wisdom, particularly from Ged McKenna’s wonderfully uneducated yet perfectly erudite ‘George’, are never lost in the humour. We laugh through this show just as much as we gasp at the personal hardships endured.

The pace picks up in the second act, even as the scenes get longer and more introspective. The humour and pathos join forces in monologue. Tragedy and farce link arms and are not afraid to share the same lines of dialogue. A funeral scene, as poignant as they come, bleeds brilliantly into the comedy of a dole queue. An anguished wife (a superb Sian Polhill-Thomas) wondering how to feed her children is, in the next scene, an acerbically grim clerk at the jobcentre. But under the lights, each character casts shadow of hope. Even if the shades aren’t subtle, it is the contrast of light and dark that bring this show alive.

We might not have admitted this in the eighties, but these ‘boys’ feel emasculated, fragile and desperate for hope. The writing is sensitive beyond its years, and in Graham’s revival we can carouse in the period without having to make excuses for it. Despite being geographically and culturally specific, it is universal. And despite being rooted in a particular decade, it is timeless. The stories of ordinary people, told in an extraordinary production.



BOYS FROM THE BLACKSTUFF

Theatre Royal Windsor then UK Tour continues

Reviewed on 29th January 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Alistair Muir

 

 

 

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

FILUMENA | ★★★★ | October 2024
THE GATES OF KYIV | ★★★★ | September 2024
ACCOLADE | ★★★½ | June 2024
OH WHAT A LOVELY WAR | ★★★★ | April 2024
CLOSURE | ★★★★ | February 2024
THE GREAT GATSBY | ★★★ | February 2024

BOYS FROM THE BLACKSTUFF

BOYS FROM THE BLACKSTUFF

BOYS FROM THE BLACKSTUFF