Alan Bennett’s 1980’s sequence of monologues unveils the quieter ‘cul-de-sac’ side of life. When I was a student thousands of years ago I worked as a milkman filling in for the regular guys who were away on holiday. My patch was anywhere from Southwark to Croydon. What I most remember about the experience was that for many I was the only contact they had during their entire day. I had discovered the Beatles’ ‘…all the lonely people’. For every one of us navigating complex worlds of business and pleasure there are plenty more marooned in much smaller worlds, some challenged by physical or mental infirmity, who do not enjoy the ‘noise’ of friends, colleagues or living relatives to cajole them away from fear, petty mindedness or despair. What makes Bennett’s take on these ‘forgotten’ people so illuminating is his recognition that in these ‘dull’ lives there is high drama to be found in the most mundane of objects – a gate that creaks, dust on a picture frame, a hair in a sausage – and with the deadpan dry delivery of the Yorkshire accent there can be a delayed explosive quality to what is described.
Bennett takes us inside the head of three protagonists who are all in some way trying to postpone a bleaker future. Their passions for order or for simple continuity are both pitiable and at times hilarious. As ‘outsiders’, Irene, Graham and Doris are all the better able to see that the world beyond their windows is a threat. They all live with an apprehension of institutionialised existence.
In A Lady of Letters Siobhan Redmond’s Irene tries to set the world to rights with an ill-informed letter-writing campaign that will lead to a custodial sentence that ironically brings her company and happiness. In A Chip in the Sugar Graham, played by Karl Theobald, has his independence threatened when an old flame makes moves on his ageing mum, who he lives with. And Doris, played by Stephanie Cole, clings to life at home despite increasing disablement.
This Talking Heads has a bijoux quality. Brilliantly cast, the performances are intensely intimate and quite beautifully realised. The body language of all three actors conveyed every bit as much as the words. Karl Theobald’s often sighed mantra, “I didn’t say anything,” perfectly summed up Graham’s restricted life. “Give me your teeth, I’ll swill them,” just one of many poignant but hugely funny lines Bennett gives him to paint a picture of his life at home with Mum. Stephanie Cole was every bit the Doris determined to die rather than live with other elderly ladies smelling of pee, while Siobhan Redmond’s transformation of Irene from paranoid curtain twitcher to happy inmate was convincing.
The production is greatly enhanced by some immaculate stage design by Francis O’Connor and lighting by Paul Pyant. The three monologues are set in simple suburban rooms, but with a false perspective and Magritte-like sky and cloud finish to the walls, visual disquiet is added to Simon Slater’s poignant piano and keyboard sound track.
It is a testament to Alan Bennett’s acute observation that it is possible to believe a single biscuit in the wrong place could possibly mean the difference between a job lost or an unwanted referral to a home. How our lives are so precariously poised! ★★★★★ Simon Bishop 29/07/15 at Bath Theatre Royal
Photos by Nobby Clark
