Somewhere in Ireland ‘Woman’ lies dying, and the cause appears to be her own bitterness and spite. She is accompanied by the taunting figure of Scarecrow, who we come to suspect is her conscience, reminding her of all the dreams and passions that she has failed to explore in a life tied to the raising of eight children, having been abandoned by a serially unfaithful and largely absent husband. A bleak scenario indeed, yet this is a play full of energy and black humour, and it certainly is not grimly naturalistic. Death lurks growling in the wardrobe as Woman leaps to her feet to vigorously debate all her lost opportunities with Scarecrow. She has barely tasted a world that she could have devoured, but she seems to have a Keatsian appetite for a death that might offer more grandeur than the miserable existence that has led up to it. She indulges herself in poetically reflecting on a life martyred to mediocrity, only to be upbraided by Scarecrow’s scornful response: ‘If only you lived like you speak!’
Rosie Nicholls delivers Woman’s frequently lyrical language with great skill in an often amusing performance that avoids sentimentality, yet which never allows us to forget the desperate sadness of an unfulfilled life. However, there is no escaping the fact that Nicholls is too young for the role, and her sad reminiscences and reflections would have sharper poignancy if delivered by an older woman. She is well matched by Amy Barnes as Scarecrow, an imagined, dream-like figure whose words can nevertheless strike like daggers as she scornfully accuses Woman of having wasted all her energies in ‘taking second place’. Director Siobhán Cannon-Brownlie has choreographed the sparring of Woman and her alter ego very effectively, and both actors respond to the challenges of this decidedly wordy play with gusto. However, there is at times an uncertainty of tone, and some opportunities for contrast have been missed, particularly in the two minor roles. As the wayward ‘Him’, Michael Harkin has not been encouraged to fully explore the comic possibilities presented by that character’s unrestrained chauvinism and utter inadequacy as a husband and father. Similarly, the ghastly Auntie Ah (Anna Riding) presents us with a parody of rigid Catholicism that should perhaps be played more broadly. However, there is much to enjoy in Woman and Scarecrow, for this is a thought-provoking and imaginative play about the regret that comes with a life only half-lived. ★★★☆☆ Mike Whitton 14/05/15
BRISTOL OLD VIC THEATRE SCHOOL GRADUATE DIRECTORS’ SEASON
The Directors’ Cuts season is a programme of contemporary theatre presented by the four graduating directors from the Bristol Old Vic Theatre School and featuring work by acting and production students.
Click here for information on the whole season
