Talking Heads
The staging of only two episodes out of five per evening means the set feels like more of a taster than a full outing - a taster, however which oils one's palate for a mouthful of all five courses
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Published 05 Aug 2007
Mindful of the risk to tablecloths and doilies posed by spat tea, Alan Bennett rarely allows the comedy in his monologues, Talking Heads, to approach anything which might be termed uproarious. So it is with a healthy lump of restraint that Grant Smeaton's production resists any urge to play up these comedic elements for the sake of cheap laughs. With this in mind, the listing of the staging as 'comedy' rather than 'theatre' is somewhat baffling.
That is not to say that the five episodes presented by the company aren't funny. Jill Riddiford's portrayal of the alcoholic vicar's wife ('A Bed Among the Lentils') packs just enough sarcasm to avoid being one of a lonely WI woman, lashing out at the Frobishers and Belches – the "fans" in her husband's parish. Unfortunately, Riddiford finds it necessary to pause after almost every sentence, making for a delivery which rises and falls with frustrating uniformity – more 'nodding dog' than Talking Heads. Where this pattern is dropped the effect is spectacular: an hilarious anecdote about drunken flower-arranging replaces smiles at Bennett's prose with real laughs at the performance.
A great deal of thought, however, has gone into Ross Stenhouse's portrayal of Graham in 'A Chip in the Sugar'. Still living at home, the comedy stems from Graham's tussle with the manipulative Frank Turnbull for the affections of his elderly mother: his whine of, "Mum, let go of my arm," is dealt with just enough childish petulance to make its coming from a middle-aged cardigan-wearer terribly funny rather than farcical. His feel for the speech of others – vital in the monologue setting – is impressive: an imitation of the Mr Turnbull's "press on" grates wonderfully against the funny edge of the aging boyfriend's arrogance. Oddly, however, cuts to the script seem to have been made to gloss over some dated references, despite set-dressing which delights in the floral nastiness of the late eighties.
The staging of only two episodes out of five per evening means the set feels like more of a taster than a full outing – a taster, however which oils one's palate for a mouthful of all five courses. The company presents a worthwhile afternoon of theatre, but to list Bennett's plays as comedy risks neglecting their more bitter notes.
That is not to say that the five episodes presented by the company aren't funny. Jill Riddiford's portrayal of the alcoholic vicar's wife ('A Bed Among the Lentils') packs just enough sarcasm to avoid being one of a lonely WI woman, lashing out at the Frobishers and Belches – the "fans" in her husband's parish. Unfortunately, Riddiford finds it necessary to pause after almost every sentence, making for a delivery which rises and falls with frustrating uniformity – more 'nodding dog' than Talking Heads. Where this pattern is dropped the effect is spectacular: an hilarious anecdote about drunken flower-arranging replaces smiles at Bennett's prose with real laughs at the performance.
A great deal of thought, however, has gone into Ross Stenhouse's portrayal of Graham in 'A Chip in the Sugar'. Still living at home, the comedy stems from Graham's tussle with the manipulative Frank Turnbull for the affections of his elderly mother: his whine of, "Mum, let go of my arm," is dealt with just enough childish petulance to make its coming from a middle-aged cardigan-wearer terribly funny rather than farcical. His feel for the speech of others – vital in the monologue setting – is impressive: an imitation of the Mr Turnbull's "press on" grates wonderfully against the funny edge of the aging boyfriend's arrogance. Oddly, however, cuts to the script seem to have been made to gloss over some dated references, despite set-dressing which delights in the floral nastiness of the late eighties.
The staging of only two episodes out of five per evening means the set feels like more of a taster than a full outing – a taster, however which oils one's palate for a mouthful of all five courses. The company presents a worthwhile afternoon of theatre, but to list Bennett's plays as comedy risks neglecting their more bitter notes.