“a play that is unique and important yet totally unpretentious”
Performed by a cast of seven, some of whom identify as having learning disabilities, Joy is a tale of the struggle for independence and the difficulty of letting go. It is about family and friendship and allowing people to just be who they are. Stephanie Martin’s script is beautifully crafted, unsentimental and real and there are some genuinely hilarious moments, one of which involves a banana. There is no tokenism here, no sense of inequality among the cast. Each and every one of the actors delivers, weaving a story that centres on one young woman’s desire to have the life she wants.
Imogen Roberts is a delight as Joy and it is a rare thing to see a person with learning disabilities presented as a fully rounded character who falls in love, is loved in return, makes friendships independently, gets drunk with her sister and stands up for what she wants. Her sister, Mary, is played by Rachel Bright, best known for playing Poppy Meadow in Eastenders. Mary loves spending time with Joy and wants her to be able to grow up and build a life for herself. But even while hanging out in the bedroom talking about boys, dancing like crazy and slugging beer, she is the responsible sister who has cared for Joy since their mother left them years ago. The two are a fantastically fun and well matched pair and the affection between them is palpable.
Danny Scheinmann plays John, the girls’ father. He is terrified of anything happening to Joy. He wants her to be safe and doesn’t like her having a relationship with Paul, played by Deen Hallisey. He also disapproves of Joy’s new friendship with Sue, played by Kate Lynn Evans, a librarian who is trapped in a cold marriage. We see Joy listening to Sue’s problems, helping the much older woman and generally enjoying her company. It is an unlikely friendship, but it works. Paul is a spoken word artist, a gentle young man, but will Joy’s father allow the relationship to continue? Scheinmann, Evans and Hallisey represent different poles in Joy’s life, Scheinmann’s frightened anger, Evan’s wonderful neuroticism and Hallisey’s quiet passion are the background to her optimism and determination and allow her to demonstrate different types of love and caring. It’s all beautifully done.
Running parallel to this contemporary tale is the story of two young sisters from the Victorian age. Joy is reading about a young woman from 1871, and sees her in her daydreams. Mabel is like Joy and her sister Maud is the equivalent of Mary, a young woman who loves her sister deeply and wants the best for her. They walk for days to get to an enlightened hospital where ‘people like Mabel’ are cared for with kindness. Maud’s care for her sister and her determination are sensitively portrayed by E J Martin and Mabel’s strength of character, occasional stubbornness and love for her sister are brought vividly to life by Stephanie Newman. After the show I found myself wondering what the rehearsal process had been like for the two pairs of sisters. The onstage relationships were strong and nuanced, there was a sense of real delight in each other’s company and genuine mutuality.
Carla Goodman’s production design is simple and effective. Chalk drawings on the back wall are completed by the cast to indicate changes of location, something I had not seen before and which works beautifully. Melanie Fullbrook directs with sensitivity and a lovely comic touch, weaving the story in a way that never jars and where both time periods co-exist with ease.
I don’t want to give away too much of the story, but there were tears in the audience at the end. Happy tears. If you want to see a play that is unique and important yet totally unpretentious, a play that will move you and make you laugh out loud, go and see this.
Reviewed by Reviewed by Katre
Photography by Mathew Foster
JOY
is at Gerry’s Studio, Theatre Royal Stratford East until 4th November
“… questions where social ideas of ‘normal’ stem from”
So London’s balmy start to summer decided to burst into a massive downpour this evening (actually for most of the afternoon beforehand too), therefore I found myself bereft of canoe and risking driving to the venue through foot deep puddles and rivulets of water!
The Kings Head Theatre Pub in Islington is on the A1 so fairly accessible and local parking not bad after 6.30. The pub itself is a traditional affair, massive windows and polished wood. It isn’t a huge room but on a ‘quiet’ Tuesday it was buzzing and capably tended by two cheerful barmen. Clientele was mixed. Every age of punter and a lot of accents chattering happily. I tried to guess who around me was waiting for admittance to the theatre in the back of the pub …
The pub has a long theatrical history framed on it’s walls and whilst the theatre is small it runs a slick turnaround. A registered charity, the theatre relies solely on donations and ticket sales to survive – they get no share of bar takings and pay rent to the brewery to be on site. Yet they are proud of their Equity House Agreement that means everyone involved with each production is paid the going rate.
I was here to see the second production of the evening ‘Bridle’, written and performed by Stephanie Martin. Part of ‘Festival 47’, the King’s Head’s new writing showcase.
For the uninitiated the auditorium is a little cramped, and tonight was pretty well attended. Despite the wet weather, the evening was not any cooler so the ceiling fans are a welcome breeze in an intimate venue. We entered to see a bare stage, a single microphone, a woman in a horse mask reading a porn magazine.
I’d seen the blurb and thought I was in for an hour or so of thought provoking drama regarding women’s sexuality in contemporary Britain. Instead I was treated to a mix of stand up comedy and monologue which slowly unravelled into a very 21st century tale from the Clamour Theatre Company, with all the drama hitting home via what we learned about our complex and flawed sole character.
The play begins as ‘Evie’ is detained by people unknown for an act she wasn’t aware of was a crime; the charges remaining ambiguous. Her reminiscences and explanations, her disclosures about her private life, loves and relationships, are slowly laid bare and the audience begins to build a picture of her. Modern grey areas such as sexting and stalking are explored and encroaching political censorship as well as social parameters are acknowledged.
Evie is likeable, honest and funny in declaring her past, she reigns nothing in, making you wonder if she’s a victim or a manipulator. While veering between laughing at her and with her, the play poses some familiar issues regarding ‘attention seeking behaviour’, attitudes to women who are open about life/love/sex, the female virgin/whore dichotomy, and feminine vs. feminist stereotypes. Through Evie’s revelations the audience questions where social ideas of ‘normal’ stem from – it lays bare the judgements we are all constantly either making, or are open to, without declaring what the verdict ought to be.
Stephanie Martin was very good as Evie, relaxed in the role and able to adapt the script around a small amount of audience participation/interaction. She held everyone’s attention and kept the narrative flowing.
If the applause at the end is a gauge, no one was disappointed with the performance. There is no resolution, vindication or damnation of who Evie is, she is in many ways all of us rolled into one – and as a woman watching the show I realise much of what it highlights is, or has been, real life to far too many friends, relatives and colleagues. That said, with both feet firmly on the entertainment stage the loudest laughs came from the males in the audience, even if one or two looked a little uncomfortable at first, so don’t dismiss this play as solely for a female audience.
In fact go see for yourself what an UN-Bridled woman has to say.
