Tom Wells is the owner of that most treasured of attributes for a playwright, the gift of metaphor. Broken Biscuits is set in the garden shed (carefully envisioned in Lily Arnold’s evocative set) of Megan who is the new owner of a second hand drum set and plans to mould her friends, Holly and Ben into a group in the unrealistic timescale of eight weeks so as to enter a ’battle of the bands’ competition. With that great optimism of youth, the fact that neither friend has either the aptitude or desire to be in a band is a mere detail to be overcome – to say nothing of her own unfamiliarity with a drum kit. Megan, a new recruit herself into the grownup world of life’s battalions and with a shaky hold on its values, takes on the role of sergeant major as, with sheer force of personality, she enlists her reluctant and hesitant friends into the project.
Thus the struggle to impose Megan’s will, based as it is on a naive understanding of life and people becomes a metaphor for the trials of finding and asserting oneself in the teeth of societal pressures. The shed itself serves a metaphor for the secret world of teenagers. Everything you need to know about the young adults in your life is exposed to loving scrutiny.
In James Grieve’s direction the progress through the eight weeks journey of discovery is sure-footed and devout in the observance of the hyper-sensitive realities of adolescence. Matthew Robbins’ music is as quirky and as fitting as you could want, perfectly matching the moods of the characters.
In Faye Christall we have an actress of prodigious energy. Once she learns – as she will with experience – to control and direct it she will become a force to be reckoned with. Even so there is an incipient sensitivity in her portrayal of an overweight girl who is badly served by the stereotypes of the day. I forget the exact phrase but something like, ‘Just because I’m fat doesn’t mean I don’t think about stuff’ summed up that cranky part of the culture we could well do without. By contrast Grace Hogg-Robinson as Holly, paints in delicate, transparent watercolours. Her performance is one of naked, confused sensitivity as she gawkily feels her way through the pressures of the Tinder generation to a firm sense of self-worth that will not compromise to an unthinking and brutalising expectation. Likewise for Andrew Reed as Ben, the young gay boy, the sense of self-discovery is informed by a cleverly exposed inner-strength and the journey (for both) is clearly narrated, palpable and poignant.
Mr Wells accurately maps the foothills between innocence and maturity with insight and charm in a production whose humour and warmth belies the serious intent. This production from Paines Plough and Live Theatre is a true gem and one can only feel sorry for anybody not moved by its charm. ★★★★☆ Graham Wyles 26th November 2016
