Catherine Bennett resumes the weekly look at the performing arts world, with the sad end of Jerusalem, the luck of a cabbie, and French revolt. Do you hear the people sing?
Adam Alcock reviews Nigel Kennedy playing Vivaldi's Four Seasons and his own Four Elements at York Opera House.
Catherine Bennett highlights the trends in the performing arts world today.
Jonathan Cridford reviews 'Ghosts', one of the Freshers' plays for this year.
May (Jacqueline Naylor) is moving to Spain after forty five years in the same council house that she and her late husband Ted bought together. As the removal man shifts old photo albums and 78s, May looks back on the past four decades and considers how things have changed, sometimes for better, mainly for worse.
At its heart, the play is a political commentary on the decline of working class values and the disintegration of community in a post- Thatcher Britain. Ted takes advantage of a government scheme and buys his house from the council, but as the pits close and a family of loutish, anti social thugs move in next door, the value of the property plummets and the old couple become prisoners in their own home.
Although 'Our House' pins its political colours to the mast, Godber's deft touch means that it never turns into a predictable, left wing tirade. Through Jack (Matthew Booth) the old couple's son, Godber is careful to show that along with ASBOs and loud music, the liberalisation of society has brought positives. Jack is an aspiring writer and clearly not hewn from the same rock as his coal miner father. The parent's inability to relate to their son and his 'pointless' career path provides a few scenes of incendiary drama and also serves to demonstrate that while many need the safety of community, others are very much opressed by it.
Of all the performances, Dicken Ashwoth's portrayal of grumpy but lovable Ted stood out. Straight talking and gruff yet supportive and kind; his character was portrayed with great sensitivity. Jacqueline Naylor may have been miscast although she worked well within the constraints of her role. The actress is clearly many years younger than the character she played on stage and as a result, there was something a little caricaturish, Mrs Merton-esque about May's delivery which prevented the audience from warming to her in the same way we warmed to her husband.
On the whole, Our House is a sad, melancholic but never depressing piece of theatre with a pertinent social message. It certainly touched a nerve with this reviewer and if you grew up in a town where the men still drink at the Rafa club and play skittles on a Friday night, you might find it particularly affecting. It is in York untill the 15th March.
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