A heart-warming tale of crossing generational boundaries. Set in a Vauxhall Corsa.
One of the ultimate rites of passage for any young person is learning to drive. The dream of open roads, windows down, music blasting, the entire world at your clutch pedals. The only barrier standing between you and this complete freedom is 20 sessions with The Worst Person In The World aka your instructor.
Will Jackson’s charming new play Clutch, directed by Philip J Morris at the Bush Theatre, flips this dynamic on its head. We meet Max (Geoffrey Aymer), an ex-London cabbie who informs his newest student Tyler (Charlie Kafflyn) that he isn’t like those other ‘bellend instructors’, he’s your teasing, probing, pint-down-the-pub mate.
The dynamic between these two characters is non-stop entertainment. Aymer, recently in the excellent Jitney at the Old Vic, is boisterous, erratic, harsh when he needs to be but always up for a laugh – he’s utterly believable as the kind of instructor you wouldn’t tell your Mum about. Kafflyn is a perfect foil as an anxious, bottled-up Tyler whose teenage pretension is gradually worn down by Max’s relentless energy. Max endures Tyler’s shoddy driving, Tyler endures Max’s tactless comments about gender and sexuality, and together they grow.
Most of the play is formatted in small vignettes of the pair’s driving lessons – some are ten minutes, some ten seconds. This helps keep us on our toes and present through the speedy one-hour runtime. Another aspect that helps is Jackson’s very funny script, his Soho Theatre roots shining through in the witty, pacy dialogue that only adds to how endearing the characters are.
Tension builds through nifty movement interludes (directed by Maggie Bain) that give us further insight into why Max is so friendly with his students and why Tyler is so desperate to pass. As the show reaches and recovers from its shocking climax, the pair realise that while their situations might be wildly different, they both can offer support to the other. It’s a heart-warming (if slightly drawn-out) ending.
Beyond some minor gripes – Kafflyn looks a bit young for an 18-year-old and there are a couple of sluggish monologues – this is a really special bit of theatre, packed to the hilt with talent that could easily fill houses beyond the Bush’s cosy studio.