Tag Archives: Sarah Berger

GIRL OUT OF THE BLUE

★★

Tabard Theatre

GIRL OUT OF THE BLUE

Tabard Theatre

★★

Girl Out of the Blue

“ultimately, we are left with the feeling that the play itself has yet to find its own identity”

Giles Cole’s “Girl Out of the Blue” opens with a seventeen-year-old girl meeting a fifty-something man in a bar. She is there under false pretences. He, a journalist, thinks she has a story about domestic abuse to offer him. She has another agenda entirely. When she drops the bombshell that she thinks she is his daughter, his reaction is complex. We know it is coming (it’s in the first line of the poster copy), but he also betrays a certain prior knowledge, despite claiming that the news is ‘out of the blue’. The episode sets the tone of the piece. The secrets revealed are (secretly) common knowledge already.

Except for Abi (Miranda Braun) perhaps, who is entering adulthood having been brought up by her overbearing single mother Beth (Sarah Berger). Understandably she wants to discover her biological father. Less understandably, she finds a phone number in an old address book of her mother’s and immediately assumes she has the answer. Doug (Jonathan Sidgwick) – for it is he who is the alleged father – pretends not to have known about his daughter. His wife Maya (Seeta Indrani) also feigns outrage at the discovery, although that is also a pretence. Abi’s mother starts out claiming that Doug never knew – but that, too, is a lie. Oh, what tangled webs we weave.

The layers are peeled back like an adult ‘pass the parcel’. Each short scene is punctuated by William Godfree’s light piano melodies. When the music stops, we have the next unveiling. But the anticipation and the tension are lacking and the heightened emotions the characters are aiming for are beyond reach and consequently unbelievable. The intention is there but the delivery is inconsistent. The most convincing is the mother and daughter relationship. Braun and Berger spar well and make up better, a mutual tenderness visible beneath the arguments. There is little affection, however, between Doug and Maya. Sidgwick’s loveable rogue might have the audience on his side, but his wife is having none of it. Indrani’s ice-queen is unwavering, yet equally unconvincing and locked into one rigid pose. Unfortunately, many of her lines are lost, too, through poor projection.

Cole’s writing hovers between sitcom and soap, circling each other without really getting to the heart of the matter. Jonas Cemm’s static direction accentuates this lack of conviction. The questions are raised but then left suspended and we become rather baffled, while we are never granted full access to the characters’ beliefs and emotions. Histrionic outbursts are seldom more than lines on a page. The humour, however, is a saving grace, of which Berger is adept at dishing out with a wry, slightly tipsy, twinkle in her eye. Braun, too, has fun taunting the adults and mocking the perversity of ‘grown-up’ moral standards. Sidgwick has his work cut out as the only male running the gauntlet of feminine antipathy. We can definitely see the potential for more comedy without sacrificing the importance and complexity of its key topics.

There is something intrinsically and dramatically powerful in the revelation of secrets that are already known. The angst of the build-up to confession, followed by the twist that the confidante is one step ahead. “Girl Out of the Blue” ironically tries to build on this concept. She is not out of the blue at all. Similarly, though, the play itself has little that is unforeseen or unexpected in its narrative structure. A late insertion concerning an alleged historical harassment case is touched upon, but its impact is subdued. The deliberately mundane and anticlimactic ending is refreshing by contrast, and a nice closure to the emotional upheavals of these four characters in search of answers and identity. But ultimately, we are left with the feeling that the play itself has yet to find its own identity.



GIRL OUT OF THE BLUE

Tabard Theatre

Reviewed on 25th September 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Bethany Blake


 

 

 

 

GIRL OUT OF THE BLUE

GIRL OUT OF THE BLUE

GIRL OUT OF THE BLUE

POSSUM TROT

★★★

Theatre at the Tabard

POSSUM TROT

Theatre at the Tabard

★★★

“the innate awkwardness of humdrum humanity is finely portrayed”

Apparently, there are five Possum Trots in the United States. In Alabama, Kentucky, Missouri, Texas and Virginia. All of them desolate backwaters – what are referred to as an ‘unincorporated area’, which basically means that they are not really legally recognised as existing. In fact, all that is left of the one in Missouri is a one-room school, a house and a closed down general store. A ghost town, no less. The “Possum Trot” in which Kathy Rucker’s new play is set is fictional, but its title has a ring of truth about it, which is reflected in the natural and authentic depiction of the handful of oddballs that are clinging on to keep their community alive. On top of this, regular tornados further threaten to wipe the town completely off the map.

Rucker’s play explores the challenges encountered by one family as it faces the collapse of the farming community, the exodus of its population and the climate disasters raining down like military attacks, forcing the people to scuttle down to their basement on an almost daily basis. They’re a stoic lot, and humour fuels their determination to carry on. Rucker is focusing on the unpretentious simplicity of everyday life; and what we witness in the short hour-and-a-quarter is the eye of the storm. Aside from a couple of upturned chairs (which happens in blackout) “Possum Trot” is a gentle affair. Almost inconsequential. Like the town itself, it doesn’t appear to be going anywhere.

Maxine (Sarah Berger) runs the fort. Or rather, she runs the only diner in town. Reuben Speed’s set is the real thing. Brilliantly authentic, it transforms the whole space into Maxine’s diner come café come bar come local hub. Berger adds to the realism as she shuffles on in the dismal dawn’s early light to open up for the day, wearing her stoicism like a tattered apron. We think we are in the latter part of the twentieth century until Maxine’s extended family wander in wielding mobile phones and Instagram stories. In particular Neve Francis’ sprightly hypochondriac Billie – the granddaughter whose dream of escaping to art college is about to be realised, despite a very significant personal crisis that pops up – which is never really explored satisfactorily. The middle generation come in the form of chalk and cheese couple, Jeremiah (Nikolas Salmon) and Pru (Dani Arlington). Salmon represents the sense of tradition, desperate to live up to his father’s name, while Arlington’s Pru tries to drag him into the present and get him to sell up the farm. If the dwindling economy doesn’t soon kill off the cattle, the weather will. A comic moment involves the rescuing of a poor cow who finds itself on the roof after a particularly bad Kansas-like gale.

In the family’s midst is village local, Duane (Todd Boyce) and his stream of bad dad-jokes which repeatedly misfire, deliberately failing to puncture the chaotic dramas unfolding within the close-knit family. Scott Le Crass respectfully directs by playing down the drama, avoiding heightened histrionics. These are ordinary people after all, and the innate awkwardness of humdrum humanity is finely portrayed. It starts with a wake (Maxine is recently widowed), continues with a celebration (the diner is fifty years old) and ends with a joke (which unfortunately has little to do with the narrative).

Like the landlocked town of Possum Trot itself, Rucker’s play is neither here nor there. Yet there is an appealing, understated charm that does draw you in; like you’re discovering a single episode of a soap opera. We find ourselves wanting more. If only we could scroll through to the back stories, or forward to future instalments. And Hannah Bracegirdle’s country-tinged soundtrack is spot on; from Bruce Springsteen’s opening harmonica of ‘Nebraska’, through to the closing notes of Bob Dylan’s achingly beautiful ‘Shelter from the Storm’. This play won’t necessarily kick up a storm, but its mix of poignancy and humour is quietly soothing, like the muffled roll thunder heard from a safe distance.



POSSUM TROT

Theatre at the Tabard

Reviewed on 14th November 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Bonnie Britain


 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

WODEHOUSE IN WONDERLAND  | ★★★★ | July 2025
THE BUSINESS OF MURDER | ★★★ | October 2024
DUET | ★★★ | April 2024
THE SECRET GARDEN | ★★★★ | December 2023
ABOUT BILL | ★★★★★ | August 2023

 

 

POSSUM TROT

POSSUM TROT

POSSUM TROT