South Western is an energetic, cleverly-devised show that is frequently both dramatically effective and very funny. One moment it seems we getting an academic treatise on the conventions of the Western movie as a genre; at other times it’s a high-octane melodrama, telling of a young woman seeking revenge for the death of her father.  Just when we might be tempted to begin to take either of these strands too seriously, the mood is punctured by something much more frivolous.

The main story centres on Mae Corman, a young woman obsessed with tracking down her father’s murderer.  Her story is set in the South West of England, and early in the play many familiar places are name-checked; this is surely the first time that both Vassals Park and the Sedgemoor Splash have got a mention on stage.  Mae’s quest takes her from Bristol to Land’s End, but her story is presented as a Western; she even has Clint Eastwood’s habit of narrowing her eyes just before downing a foe with a single punch. There’s a nod to almost every Western cliché, including a jailbreak, a philosophical campfire chat, a last-minute rescue, and the death of the hero’s faithful companion.  But just when we find ourselves becoming fully engaged in Mae’s exciting story, the narrative flow is disrupted; perhaps by a makeup artist coming on to apply copious amounts of blood to a victim’s face, or a special effects chap spraying rain over the protagonists.  These interruptions ensure that we are never allowed to forget that what we are watching is a fictional construct, so it is perhaps surprising that South Western frequently packs quite an emotional punch. That’s the power of these familiar narratives, I guess.  They can strike at something deep no matter how often we remind ourselves that they are ‘just a story’.

Helena Middleton is splendid as Mae, pugnacious and determined throughout.  Equally impressive is Ben Vardy as the Wyoming Professor of Film Studies, who acts as narrator and expositor of the Western genre.  But perhaps the most likeable character we encounter is Anne Parsley, a rough n’ tough jailbird with a heart of gold, played with great gusto by Jesse Meadows. Her bloody demise provides the most effective moment in the play, when Mae repeatedly cries out ‘Cut to a different scene!’ Real life is blessed with the tidily ordered sequences of a Western movie; we cannot cut to a different scene when the going gets too tough.

Packed with clever ideas, South Western has many of the strengths associated with an ensemble-devised show, though it has some of the weaknesses, too. Overall, the show is wonderfully inventive, but the first half is a little too baggy, and it takes rather too long to get into its stride. The second half has more energy and pace and succeeds in mixing knockabout physical humour with some thought-provoking reflections on why these stories matter to us. Tom Crosley-Thorne provides evocative guitar music throughout the show, and there’s good music at the interval, too. Last night Sam Brookes delivered a very impressive 20-minute set of songs, accompanying himself expertly on acoustic guitar. I particularly liked his version of John Martyn’s Go Down Easy.

Director Tom Brennan has succeeded in tying all the different elements of South Western into a thoroughly enjoyable package. Catch it if you can.  ★★★★☆   Mike Whitton  20^th July 2018