I’ve fallen behind with my posts about ‘things I have done’ – I have random reviews and musings cluttering up the draft page from months ago – but last things first.
Tonight I went to see The Straw Chair by Sue Glover at The Tron (it’s on tour), directed by Liz Carruthers and produced by Liz Burton-King – for their own company ‘Hirtle’* – which – and for this I will adore and support them for all time – boasts that between them they have 100 years of professional experience. Because it should be a plus. People don’t die at 35. *
(*with Borderline – ages unknown).
And yes – I will still sound like I’m giving them snark – but that’s my style. I give myself snark.
The Straw Chair had a tiny wee set – representing the Island of Hirta – made out of astro-turf, bouncy stones (a la Classic Doctor Who) and a bed-sheet hung at the back… I couldn’t decide if I liked it – or thought it was too literal – or liked it but didn’t like the way the actors seemed to hold themselves back on it as if they were going to fall or stub a toe.
It also had a tiny wee straw chair – the only one on the island – which seems a bit daft since it was made on the island – so you’d think they could make another one… but maybe they ate it when they ran out of eggs (they mention eggs a lot… eggs and birds… birds and eggs… ).
I liked the sounds of the sea and seagulls that played at the start (and I swear I could smell the sea)… even if it’s a cliche it’s still a powerfully evocative cliche… and what else are you going to listen to in Ye Auldie Western Isles?
The play is set sometime between 1732 and 1745 and is about a young Minister and his new wife sent as Missionaries to St Kilda (Hirta) and encountering a kidnapped Edinburgh aristocrat, Lady Grange, who intended to expose her husband as a Jacobite.
The acting was a bit under-powered… but Lady Grange was magnificently played as Edina Monsoon (from Absolutely Fabulous) and while I’m not sure that’s the way the character was meant to go – it did work… you felt sorry for the poor spoilt cow stuck in the world’s worst rehab… Unfortunately it did leave the two leads a bit adrift with their po-faced lines about marriage and God.
The Minister’s wife was very sweet – but had one facial expression and a monotone through-out and I wasn’t sure why she needed to meet Lady Grange in order to find out she quite liked plucking puffins… or why the Minister needed to spend time on an uneducated Island to find out that Highlanders have weird ideas about fairies and Edinburgh is full of corruption.
Our heroine should have been painfully caught between three things – the natural rhythm of life on Hirta (represented by the servant Oona) – the sexy High Life of Lady Grange – and the piety of her husband (who was a wet fish of a Presbyterian – his character was crying out for a few good rants). In the end she did a bit of everything, nothing bad happened – and Lady Grange was left as she was found.
I wasn’t bored though. With a bit more welly in the vocals and the action I doubt I would’ve had time to ponder what it all meant.