“Two exceptionally well written plays explore polar opposite ends of the grief manifestation spectrum”
(God Save My) Northern Soul
If, like me, you’ve ever grown up in Wigan, or Lancashire or indeed just the nebulous “North”, this play is bound to resonate with you. Following nineteen year old Nicole (played by the show’s writer Natasha Cottriall), we go on a nostalgic and bittersweet journey of what it means to come of age in the midst of parental bereavement. Cottriall’s acting is superbly nuanced; her accent skills are uniquely suited to the softness of Nicole’s lilting accent, the harshness of her friend Sally’s, the stiffness of her grandmother’s, and the Mancunian twang of a man she meets at the club. It is an emotional tale threaded with the fabric of Northern Soul music- the mighty Wigan Casino soundtrack playing backdrop to Nicole’s musings on her suddenly deceased mother, whose assets she must now reckon with, all before really knowing what it means to be an adult. Topics of education, business, love, fashion, music and family are all gently explored with tender reminiscence and a jolt of reality. Humour is peppered throughout; for example Nicole jokes with a guy she meets at a club that she just bought her own grave that day, and if he plays his cards right he can have the second space. The absurd reality of dealing with bereavement and the paperwork and mundane necessities are seamlessly performed in this solo show. Clever lighting cues and physical body language changes are etched on the checkerboard flooring of Nicole’s flat. As a Northerner I absolutely loved it. It made me feel emotional and it felt genuine. This show is Jim Catrwright’s Road for the modern age: Cottriall’s personal experiences echo through her sublime writing and her characters are all portrayed as good eggs- I think I’d dance to Northern Soul with every one of them. Make it full length next time, ah’reet?
Vermin
I could pinpoint the exact moment the audience realised this was not a comedy. As graphic as a Lars Von Trier script and as uncomfortably surreal as a Sarah Kane play. And you know what? It was brilliant. Good. Make us feel awkward, afraid, terrified- this is not a show for ambivalence. This production is told by South London couple Rachel and Billy (played expertly by Sally Paffett and Benny Ainsworth respectively). They spend the whole performance either in two simple chairs or breaking the fourth wall explaining their frankly tumultuous and increasingly desperate relationship history until the bloody climax. Vermin deals with child loss in a maniacal and feral way. Obsessive bickering and unhinged storytelling escalates as Rachel and Billy try to manage a defiant rat infestation in their flat. In my interpretation, the rats’ existence represents each person’s attempt to deal with their carnal grief. Billy’s bloodlust against innocent animals demonstrates his one way to take control whilst simultaneously giving in to impulsive desire. Rachel’s visual hallucinations of rats clinging to her like a baby on her breast is her inability to move on- she sees her baby’s face every where looking for her. This play is exquisite at exemplifying the theatre of the mind. There are no props or set, and so all the twisted descriptions of sickening violence and breathless rage plays out even worse in our minds than any production designer could come up with. Superbly thrilling and acted throughout. This play takes our sensibilities hostage and shreds them for the whole hour. Sensational.