While the 1960s are considered fab and groovy the seventies are generally thought of as a bit naff – how could any decade dare to show its face again after all that big hair, flared trousers, wide lapels and Demis Roussos. For those of you who don’t remember Mr Roussos, count yourself lucky. He was Greek, sang in a semi-falsetto voice and made Mama Cass look like Twiggy (Google them). Try and imagine a high-pitched Hagrid in a kaftan, but bigger.
But to some the wailer in the voluminous frock was, along with Donna Summer, prawns and avocado, Jason King moustaches and the Austin Allegro, the very height of sophistication. One such was Beverley Moss in Leigh’s cruel but hilarious exposé of suburban mores and chic. Trés sophistiqué they certainly were with their cheese and pineapple cubes on sticks, trendy TrimPhone (Google it) and a carpet that looked as though it was made of white feathers. It was into this cosy environment that Beverly and her stressed-out estate agent husband Lawrence had invited round for a drink the new kids in da hood, Angela and Tony, along with Susan from next door who had been ousted from her house by her fifteen-year-old daughter, Abigail, who is throwing a party.
One of the few plays I have on DVD is the BBC’s 1977 version of Abigail’s Party with Alison Steadman as Beverly and believe me, that’s a hard act to follow. The play, the TV version at least, was seminal and highlighted a new breed of rather boorish nouveau arrivistes strutting their stuff on the eve of Thatcher’s Britain.
Amanda Abbington played Beverly much in the same vein as Ms Steadman and made a decent fist of it but lacked the physical presence and authority that the part needs. Ben Caplan was an excellent Lawrence, despising his wife’s crassness while attempting to share with the others his love of art (van Gogh and L S Lowry prints adorned the walls) and literature. He proudly showed his complete set of Charles Dickens, beautifully bound and gold-embossed. He also brought out a cherished, nicely bound set of Shakespeare although, as he pointed out, they were not really for reading.
I liked the other two women best I think. They brought something new to the proceedings. Charlotte Mills really stood out and commanded the stage for much of the time playing Angela very differently from Janine Duvitski who created the role. Susan is a rather thankless part for an actress for whom three words would be considered a long speech but Rose Keegan brought a quiet dignity to the proceedings amid the bad behaviour being displayed around her. Ciarán Owens had even less to say as ex-footballer Tony but looked smart enough in his beard and nice suit to get Beverly all excited.
Abigail’s Party is Mike Leigh’s masterpiece. It is basically a tirade against marriage (he was married to Alison Steadman at the time) and suburbia and is a masterclass in airing one’s dirty linen in public with Beverly and Lawrence constantly at each other’s throats, Tony and Angela hardly speaking to each other and Susan recovering from a divorce. Beautifully observed and written as though with a cut-throat razor it was often painful to watch. The dénouement takes tragicomedy to new heights or, more accurately, depths. Painful but also horribly hilarious, like banging your funny bone. ★★★★☆ Michael Hasted at the Everyman Cheltenham 14th March 2017
Photo by Nobby Clark
