“Their precise delivery of the fast-paced dialogue is matched by their energetic and purposeful occupation of the in-the-round stage”
If I had a pound for every time I heard that originality is dead, I’d put the Arts Council out of business. There is a myth that persists which claims are no new modes of expression, that Plato, Shakespeare and Pinter have covered the lot. It persists, in spite of the adventurous new work that challenges such an assumption.
Speaking of adventurous new work, The Political History of Smack and Crack is fresh from Edinburgh and newly in Soho. It arrives with the intent of showing how the introduction of heroin to the streets of Manchester affected a generation. This “lost generation” of addicts is represented by Neil and Mandy, two friends bound together by love, fate, and opiates. Their struggle to stay clean, as well as their complex personal relationship, provide the emotional backbone of the play. But writer Ed Edwards takes things a step further by exploring not only the addiction of his protagonists, but the addiction of the whole country. The political context behind the rise in heroin addiction is explained; Thatcher’s government is exposed for its role this process; a series of statistics evoke the dissolution of the country before our eyes.
On its own, the story of Neil and Mandy would make for an enjoyable play. This is thanks in part to Neil Bell and Eve Steele, who capture their inner conflicts perfectly. One minute they are infusing dialogue with dry wit – ‘Why did you tell me it was good?’ ‘I didn’t want to die alone’ – the next this humour has given way to the depths of repressed feelings. Their precise delivery of the fast-paced dialogue is matched by their energetic and purposeful occupation of the in-the-round stage.
But the political content of the play is what truly elevates it beyond a straightforward addiction story. The moments when Bell and Steele break character and delve into the facts of the political situation are as captivating as they are shocking. It gives Neil and Mandy’s story new depth; simultaneously, it exposes an important historical event that the audience (or at least ignorant Southerners like myself) may be unaware of. Ultimately, it shows that we are all part of something bigger, that no story can be isolated from its context and expect to be understood.
Perhaps that’s why this play feels so timely, in spite of the fact that it takes events three decades previous as its subject. In a time where personal stories are championed over political context, Edwards’ union of these two aspects suggests that individual narratives can be a springboard to understanding rather than a final statements on the subject.
And (for the record) if a situation ever arises where I do get a pound every time someone says originality is dead, I will gladly give every last one to projects like this, and hope that it births more work that explores sensitive issues with the same rigour and poignancy that can be witnessed here.
“If ever there was a show deserving of a longer run, this is it”
We’ve probably all, at some stage, ‘googled’ ourselves out of curiosity, boredom, or whatever it might be. Upon doing just this, actor Adam Welsh finds that the first result is that of a six year old boy, Adam Walsh, kidnapped from a Florida department store in 1971, resulting in national uproar. It’s this that forms the basis of the production. Through the retelling of these dark events and a comparison between them and the actor’s own childhood, parent-child relationships are explored in what is an intriguing piece of theatre.
Welsh has the audience engaged from the get-go, with an element of audience participation when he asks for a show of hands of who has ever ‘googled’ themselves. The responses allow for laughs and it’s immediately apparent we are in safe hands.
There are many engaging, cleverly executed elements throughout the production – too many to name, in fact. Adam Welsh starts to tell of the disappearance of little Adam Walsh through the use of Lego figurines, filmed on a laptop webcam and projected onto the back of the set. We are led down memory lane on numerous occasions as we learn of personal stories from Welsh’s own childhood, including how he himself once went missing at a water park. Stories such as this are told through the inclusion of candid clips of his parents recounting events and reminiscing, with Welsh himself frequently mirroring segments of what they have said, which proves very effective.
Sequences from a film dramatising the disappearance of Adam Walsh in Florida are projected at various points, with Welsh, again, mirroring some of the action. Particularly powerful is the mirroring of an outburst of rage displayed by little Adam Walsh’s father.
There But for the Grace of God (Go I) should be described as more of a theatrical experience than just a show. There’s always something to engage with and never a dull moment. Touching personal stories combined with the retelling of a real crime truly bring home the value of life and relationships and you’d need a heart of stone to not be moved. If ever there was a show deserving of a longer run, this is it.