The author's intention was noble enough: portray British archetypes whose innocence "has been corroded by the deadening effects of a rotten subculture, cheap tabloids, easy racism and slobbering consumerism." Dear Conjunction probably thought it was presenting hard-headed realism. The result itself, however, smacks of cheap sensationalism. (I was told the company wanted to use Sudden Theatre for rehearsals of a revived hit it'd be taking out of town but had to rent the house long enough for a production; this was it.) What a strange choice to appeal to its bilingual audiences. The language is so dense that my Anglophone friends, including a senior professor of the language, understood barely a word. Nor did my husband and I catch every word of the banter which makes Cockney sound like the King's English. We were warned about its possible offensiveness, given the sample: "what a fuckindiabolicalfuckinloadabollocks!" That turned out to be a line of unsurpassed clarity.
Can't blame the actors, though, since their portrayals of two Neanderthal couples on a beer-can strewn beach, as well as two homosexuals they harass, are better than their material. As despicable Derek, outstanding Les Clack finally gets his comeuppance from Patrick Albenque's strong Tom. An umbrella hat helps Geoff Greenhill characterize paunchy Dave, husband of pale, slim Patricia Kessler's pseudo-feminist Doreen. (She does a neat job of clothes changing behind a towel, yet not slick enough not to distract from the dialogue.) Helen Later overplays Derek's both physically and psychologically monstrous wife, but then, it must be difficult getting any words or emotions past all her obvious padding. Derek's one redeeming feature is the love for her that Clack wisely let show.
What was the theme behind this production? Society's complicity in the patheticness/prejudices of the couples or the effect of them on the homosexuals and vice-versa? If only a director had tended to what ends in both a real and figurative bloody mess!
