“the energy with which Hartvigsen and Larsen throw into their ever-changing roles is a delight to watch”
Thankfully, for most of us, that whole period of lockdown is becoming a distant memory as life has resumed its normal, pre-pandemic routine. Occasionally we experience flashbacks, during which we might try and mitigate the whole experience by contemplating what good came out of it. It is interesting to look back to see how various people coped and it is heartening to catch glimpses of the positivity that can spring from adversity. As the months ticked by, a group of friends – with a desperate need to laugh – created a radio podcast devised and put together entirely on zoom. Picked up by Ealing Council it subsequently received a grant, was entered into the Summer Festival and eventually became a live, Offest Nominated theatre show at the Camden Fringe this summer.
That group of friends are the madcap, unconventional company “Other Mysteries”. The show is “The Midnight Snack” – an hour-long, whodunnit stage show that reveals its roots as a radio play throughout. There is no set, except for an assorted collection of costume and props used to create the many characters adopted by the three handed cast. Jonah Walsh is Harry, a wannabe crime reporter. In his head he is a Sam Spade character; hard and shifty, and able to get the better of anybody who crosses his path, whether criminal, suspect, victim, innocent or guilty. The reality is somewhat different as Harry spends his days in the darkness of his mother’s basement vicariously living his dream and trying to broadcast it via his podcast, continually interrupted by his meddling mother. Until, that is, a corpse turns up right before the day of the unnamed town’s annual baking competition.
Carolyn Hartvigsen and Mackenzie Larsen play every other character – all suspects under Harry’s over-zealous eye. A rival podcaster, the scatty chef of the eponymous ‘Midnight Snack’ food truck café, the police chief with his sidekick, the amnesiac, the femme fatale and love interest, the mysterious man spotted near the scene of the crime, the decoy the bartender and the mother. Among others. It’s a tall story and a tall order. And one that gets messy – but deliberately so, which is part of the attraction.
The comedy stems from parodying the exaggerated accents and rhythms of true crime dramas. However, that seems to be the one trick they have pulled out of the hat and even in just a short sixty-minute show the magic wears a bit thin. And the rule of three is all too often pushed beyond its limit. Nevertheless, the energy with which Hartvigsen and Larsen throw into their ever-changing roles is a delight to watch and sometimes leaves us as dumbfounded as Walsh’s hapless sleuth. In the end the mystery is solved for him (and us). No investigative skills are needed, but at the same time no real clues are offered. Which is just as well as we have long lost interest amidst the madness.
We may have lost interest in the ‘whodunnit’, but it is the performances, under Candice MacAllister’s slickly eccentric direction, that just about prevent us losing interest in the play itself. It’s perfect for the fringe and the next planned stop for this company is Edinburgh. Let’s hope they get there. The original podcast is still available online, and it will certainly put you in the mood during the journey up there.
“The supernatural and the natural are weaved together in cleverly, unexpected ways”
Rose is delighted to have landed the job as housemaid in an imposing country manor on the Cornish Coast. She keeps to a tightly regimented schedule, neatly laid out in her own hand, and kept for safekeeping within the pages of a leather-bound copy of Charlotte Brontë’s ‘Jane Eyre’. We somehow feel that her story won’t end well. Fast forward 150 years and Vicki, a Canadian novelist, believes the same manor house will inspire her and break down her writer’s block. She arrives with her best friend, Cassie, who in turn brings along a twitchy sixth sense that bridges the gap between the centuries. Vicki finds the place atmospheric; Cassie finds it haunted.
We are not quite in ghost story territory here. The piece, co-written by Alexandria Haber and Ned Cox, initially spoofs the standard horror genre, complete with West Country accents and the local publican declaring that ‘nobody’s set foot in that there manor in a fisherman’s moon’. But we rapidly realise that this unique drama defies categorisation. Are we watching a play? A novel within a play or a play within a novel? Or is it a play about writing a novel? Or a novel disguised as a play? Or all of these things? Chapters are introduced in lieu of scene changes. Narration weaves into dialogue seamlessly and the performers shift from first to third person and back with immaculate timing. It is a difficult and ambitious combination of theatrical devices, but the company carry it off superbly.
Director Alain Goulem, balances well the comedy with the Gothic atmosphere. The ghostly suspense is punctured by the subtle laughs but never deflates. Lead narrator is Jane Wheeler as Vicki, on her literary pilgrimage. She has a publisher’s deadline for the novel she has yet to write. With her rich voice, Wheeler is an innate storyteller. But as the tale unfolds, we wonder whose story is actually being told. Cara Steele’s nineteenth century maid, Rose, is ever present. Forced into silence a century and a half ago, she weaves her way into the untangling story, desperate for her own voice to be heard at last. Is she now writing Vicki’s novel from beyond the grave? Or is it Moira, the vibrantly eccentric landlady of the local pub, whose fertile imagination feeds Vicki’s word-starved mind? Fiona Tong’s comic timing and eye for character bring moments of delight. Alexandria Haber, as Cassie, is the conduit between ghosts and mortals, unwittingly aiding the silent women of both the past and the present find their voice.
The supernatural and the natural are weaved together in cleverly, unexpected ways; with twists tight enough to topple the fourth wall throughout the show. The characters are larger than life, yet made very human (or ghostly) thanks to the fine performances of the four strong cast. Neither the script nor the acting requires any embellishment by way of a set or props. The company’s minimal use of lighting and subtle sound adds the right touches of light and shade.
“The Silent Woman” does seem to have an underlying commentary on the way women’s voices have been silenced by society. Which, arguably, still continues to this day. The beauty of the play, however, is that the message is chameleon, soaked into the narrative that you only notice it subliminally. What we essentially come away with is a rich concoction of ghosts, memories, shared tragedies, secrets, and a multi-layered story within a story (within another story…?). And a re-affirmation of the importance of small-scale theatre like this show at the White Bear.
