Salford used to be a dump. It was the epitome of urban decay and deprivation. It gave “the North” a bad name. Now Salford is a shining, sexy beacon of renewal and regeneration. Half the BBC has moved there, it has a fabulous new theatre, the Lowry, and there are no dead cats or supermarket trolleys in the canal. Things change, things move on, some say they improve. So, is it important to remember? Do things lose their significance when the context changes? Are days of yore relevant or is the past a foreign country?
The plays of the late fifties and early sixties fell into a very particular slot and are very much stuck in time. Old pop music is often rediscovered and played again, the difference being that a good tune is always a good tune, a good play is not always a good play.
When it first appeared in 1958, Salford set A Taste of Honey was a sensation. Shelagh Delaney was hailed as a wunderkind (kind she certainly was) and the Zeitgeist was perfectly captured. The play arrived hot on the heels of Look Back in Anger and was instrumental in the kitchen-sink achieving a place in history. Realism, that’s what everyone wanted; a bit of dirt and grime. Theatregoers were fed up of looking into chic Mayfair drawing-rooms, they wanted to look into the cockroach-ridden sculleries of Northern back-to-backs. Being angry was de rigueur.
It all seems oddly quaint and rather childish now. And oddly, it is Noel Coward who has survived better and plays like A Taste of Honey seem ill at ease in today’s theatre. There is no denying that at the time it dealt with significant issues – teenage pregnancies, dysfunctional families, homosexuality, racism, urban decay et al. In 1958 it was considered sensational, at a time when the angry young men (or in this case, teenage girl) were blasting a hole though social mores with high pressured drama and the world would never be the same again.
But what does it say to us now? Most of the issues with which it concerns itself have been addressed or are openly discussed and incessant ranting no longer appeals as it did to John Osborne’s or Arnold Wesker’s generation. A Taste of Honey is a curiosity but I no longer think it can be considered a great play. What made it a great play in 1958 was that it was of its time. It was original and significant – as was the bellows driven vacuum cleaner – but things move on. To try and make something original and significant from it now is rather like putting spoilers and a turbo-charger on a Morris Minor.
The cast of five did a decent enough job with Rebecca Ryan convincing as the whining teenager with a flighty mum and a bun in the oven. Lekan Lawal was a sympathetic Jimmie, the black sailor who put into port and dropped his anchor for a one night stand. Christopher Hancock made a moving and put-upon Geoff although I felt he could have been a bit camper in line with James Weaver who gave us an enjoyable, but rather over-the-top Peter, the mother’s fancy man.
The past is a foreign country and one that is not always as you remember it or one you’d be wise to re-visit. ★★★☆☆ Michael Hasted
