Chock full of interesting ideas, this one generated lots of topics for me and Janie to discuss afterwards and had some lovely vignettes within it, yet it didn’t work quite so well for either of us as a coherent piece of drama.
Just occasionally we see something that is stunningly good…
…breathtaking, both Janie and I saying “wow” to each other as we leave the theatre good.
Pomona was that good.
It cemented our view that Paul Miller’s new regime at the Orange Tree really was going places, despite the dreaded Arts Council cuts.
We saw the play on the first Saturday. Had I been “real time Ogblogging” back then I’d have implored friends to drop everything and somehow get a ticket.
A play about modern policing in the inner-London suburbs, the central character being a policewoman who might have bitten off more than she can chew in that environment.
Roy Williams is a highly skilled playwright and this subject-matter is right up his street.
Lots of subplots – domestic violence, police corruption (or is it) in attempts to infiltrate criminal gangs etc.
In some ways the play was all over the place and in that sense unsatisfactory. We went on a Friday after work (and Harry Mograns) – we were quite exhausted by the end of it, despite the fact that it is a short piece (not even 90 minutes long).
But it was gripping and had some great scenes and some superb acting in it – we were glad to have seen this piece.
An American classic, performed on a very sparse set in a sort-of workshop style.
It worked for us.
There are elements of this play that could easily seem cheesy to the modern and non-US audience, yet this production managed to avoid the worst excesses of fromage and mawkishness – the piece came across to us as charming and touching.
Unusually, I mislaid the programme for this one. Perhaps abandoned at Don Fernandos – who knows? – I didn’t realise it was missing until it was far too late to do anything about it – such was the way back then…
…Stop Press – March 2021 – rummaging in a file for something completely different (don’t ask) I found the programme. Hurrah.
Deborah Bruce wrote it, Charlotte Gwinner directed it, Helen Baxendale, Clare Lawrence-Moody and Emma Beattie were especially good in it, as was the supporting cast.
Meanwhile this production did so well that Paul Miller revived it the following year as part of his “hunkering down because we have no Arts Council funding” programme. It is a real shame that the Arts Council was so far behind the curve with regard to the Orange Tree. Some would even say more than shame…disgrace.
Looks like we’d started to switch from our Friday evening Hampstead habit towards Saturday evening at the Hampstead, which subsequently became our norm. Important titbit of information, that.
The Edge Of Our Bodies was a far more sophisticated play and a more challenging piece for the performers. Cast and creatives did a superb job with this one. Especially Shannon Tarbet. We had seen her a few times before, but on the back of this piece we have been looking out for her.
Gosh this was a powerful piece about a fictitious far right group in East London, centred around an enthusiasm for karaoke as well as unpalatable politics.
Really well written, excellent performers and well directed too.
It reminded us why we like the Bush so much…if for some reason we needed reminding.
This was a challenging piece that mad us think and question some of our preconceptions. Perhaps that made it harder for the reviewers. Me and Daisy – for sure we’re up for this sort of thing.
This was Paul Miller’s first production having assume the reins at the Orange Tree.
We were pretty impressed, although we were looking forward a bit more to the modern works we had booked to see later in the season.
This was a very slick production; well directed, well produced and skillfully acted.
It is a grim play, though. mercifully not too long for its period – or perhaps Paul Miller was prepared to cut a bit, whereas Sam Walters was always orthodox as far as the text was concerned.
It all felt very different on arrival at the theatre, with the space transformed for this piece and entrances to the space where audiences normally fear to tread.
But the piece itself never really took off into the stratosphere as perhaps it should.
We heard a lot from the good-hearted middle class people who felt conflicted by the riots and/or tried to help those who got into difficulties during the chaos. We heard less from the rioters themselves.
To be fair on Alecky Blythe, she took the orthodox view on the play and stuck only to the verbatim material she could gather at the time, so I suppose that would be weighted towards those slightly safer situations…
…not least because people are not normally full of conversation while rioting…
…I imagine; not ever having been in the heart of a riot personally.