Review: Dinner 18:55 – Leeds Playhouse Pop-up Theatre

One of the unexpected side effects of the closure of the main Leeds Playhouse building is that the pop-up theatre, constructed as a stop gap, is a much more intimate space than the Courtyard Theatre was and is being utilised for productions which lend themselves to audience inclusion.

The latest of these is a community production,  Dinner 18:55.  The cast, who also created the piece, was put together by the Creative Engagement department of the Playhouse which ‘uses theatre to open up possibilities for people regardless of their age, circumstances or background’.  The two strands of this department who created the work were the Older People’s and Younger People’s Programmes, meaning that everyone was under thirty(ish) or over fifty-five(ish). My birth certificate places me comfortably in the latter category, although my mind plonks me fairly and squarely in the former. The production left me feeling that I most certainly was not alone in this.

Since last October, the aforementioned groups have been meeting on a weekly basis over tea and biscuits – ironically, never dinner – with a view to having their stories heard through dramatic means under the guidance of Director and Dramaturge, Maggie De Ruyck. It must have been a challenge to present the recollections in ways which did not involve a series of monologues or formally acted scenes. The idea of staging the show through the various media of music, drama, mime and dance worked well.  In all but one instance, the monologues were the kind that someone would relate over dinner, even though they were delivered solo and straight to the audience.

The production was episodic and, as is always the case in this form of theatre, some parts worked better than others. When the doors to the auditorium were opened ten minutes before the performance, we entered to find most of the cast already on stage, either wandering about or seated but all trying to act naturally. The remaining members entered one by one and were greeted by those already present.  I found this embarrassing as the most difficult thing in the world is to act naturally in an unnatural situation: witness people trying to look nonchalant whilst passing through security at airports or a drunk acting sober.  There was no set as such, just a series of moveable glass counters/display units (which were utilised in order to make dinner tables of various sizes and to house props and scripts) and dining chairs.

After an introduction by a representative of each age bracket, the first vignette was a meal featuring Stan and his story.  Stan, his father, step-brother and step-mother each sat at a separate table to dine, highlighting the lack of acceptance on behalf of the mother of the baggage which came along with her new husband.  Stan was denied ‘seconds’ and constantly reminded that he was not part of the family.  I found this to be at once the best and the worst episode of the night.  It was the best in that the story was poignant but the worst in its execution. Stan obviously knew his part but the other actors seemed to have been plucked at random from the ensemble and were reading from scripts taken from the glass cabinets. It was like a first rehearsal with the scripts being read rather than acted; disappointing.  Stan’s part was not very wordy in this section but he appeared later in a solo spot in which he let forth a rant about his situation but which could in no way be construed as dinner conversation.

Photography by David Lindsay

The various scenes were divided by percussion pieces, using dinner implements at the table.  Knives and forks were tapped together or beaten on the table, two empty plastic water bottles were drummed on a chair and a dining chair  was rhythmically slammed on the floor.  It was an effective form of punctuation.  There were a couple of good dance pieces and several monologues.  One by a more senior member of the cast was a bit wobbly, although the story was good, and another from the same age group saying how the youth of the seventies were not under pressure to be perfect by the media was not something I agree with –  body shaming was rife in the seventies.  We never saw a plus size model or an overweight pop star, except for Demis Roussos or Barry White.  Anyone carrying an extra stone or two was either a comedian or a figure of ridicule, including the two gentlemen mentioned.  Because of the low definition television pictures, soft lens photography and fake tan were also widely used to make actors look as good as possible.

I must mention one piece which had the audience in uproar, which was a story about an incident which happened one Christmas.  I won’t give the game away but it gave the whole cast the opportunity to overact to their hearts’ content and was very funny.

The show lasted about an hour, which was just about the right length, being sufficient time to get the point across that the generations have more in common than one might think but concise enough so as not to pad out the evening with non-stories or become preachy, as nearly happened in the epilogue.  Fortunately it just toed the line rather than crossing it.

After the shaky start, when I found myself wondering if this really needed to be played out in front of an audience rather than just being kept amongst the participants as something to do during their weekly get-togethers, it improved considerably, and reminded me that it is probably only the ultimate aim of putting on a public production which gave the ensemble the focus to keep going and the confidence to stand up and be counted.

Being a community cathartic exercise does not mean producing substandard work, and all in all I was left feeling that they had put on a pretty good show and that the good outweighed the bad.

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