The Saliva Milkshake

There’s something strangely relevant in a 1970s play about political students. It reminds an audience of a student’s prerogative to be radical. Now, the protagonists of Howard Brenton’s The Saliva Milkshake aren’t actually students anymore, but Joan (Lily Cooper) represents the small group of students who don’t leave their activism at university when they leave with their graduation certificate. Martin (Connor Abbott) on the other hand, is the majority; there’s some sense of socialist tendency, but he’s mostly just existing for the sake of doing well for himself and keeping everyone happy. Martin, quite frankly is the most pathetic and naïve character. He finds himself disappointed with the state of England and caught between Joan’s radical extremism and the cold brutality of the institution, represented in Raffety (Ryan Hall). For this reason, middle-ground Martin is the character that most audience members can relate to; this part demands a performance that is an intense but genuine portrayal of his struggle and disillusionment.

Connor Abbott didn’t quite nail it. During Martin’s long monologues, that he addressed to the audience, Abbott did manage to build up a feeling of angst and confusion, but when interacting with the other performers his facial expressions often felt forced, and once or twice just a bit blank, while his arms tended to just hang unnaturally still by his side. He did however shine in the scene of betrayal as he stammered and stumbled through Martin’s lies. Abbott also managed to deliver a long and obscure monologue on Joan’s saliva in a way that somehow managed to make the strange fantasy sound, well, normal. Which, all things considered, does speak volumes for his ability to adopt a character.

Abbott’s inconsistent performance lay in the shadow of Lily Cooper and Ryan Hall, who both played their characters brilliantly. Cooper’s furrowed eyebrows, quivering hands and tortured stares into the distance made the tragedy of Joan’s character tangible. When Cooper delivered the lines of Joan’s hopes for ‘A land without want,’ I felt actual shivers. Cooper’s performance of Joan’s determination was powerfully honest. Hall, similarly, filled his character with realistic twitches and gestures, and his tone of voice made a definite imprint of the creepy, almost sadistic, thrill that colours Raffety’s words when talking of the institution and what it’s capable of.

The real star of the show, however, was Katie Lambert (lighting design). The use of projections to give impact to the discussions of radical politics, and to present the situations that the characters find themselves in, was at times uncomfortably real and challenging. The lighting was atmospherically brilliant, the lights faded during Joan’s confession, focussing the audience towards her story, without resorting to anything so brash as a spotlight. Equally, the highest moment of tragedy is marked with a single red light, throwing every character into a darkness, which is only broken by Abbott lighting a cigarette. These few moments of darkness gave incredible strength to the plot as the contrast between the harsh red light and the gentle glow of a single cigarette parallels Joan’s strong determination and Martin’s desire to simply exist and please.

This performance of The Saliva Milkshake was simple but made an impact, leaving the audience with a cold hard impression of what radical social change entails.

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