Be My Baby, by Amanda Whittington
For many of us baby boomers, the 1960’s was a special time: fab music, fab clothes and jobs galore. But if you were pregnant and unmarried it was a different story. Be My Baby was a stark reminder of the stigma, lack of compassion and downright cruelty towards girls in that situation. The audiences’ sympathy was palpable as they hung on every word of the six-strong female cast, directed by Paul Beasley.
Set in a Christian-based home for unmarried mums, the play focused on the dilemmas of four pregnant and petrified women.. My heart broke for posh-girl Mary, played strongly and sensitively by Kate Cary, as she held her daughter, only to have her taken away for adoption. Sophie Marlowe exuded warmth as the rather more worldly Queenie. Ruth Fowler was delightful as the naïve Dolores and Rachael Humphrey as Norma, drew so much sympathy – pregnant and dumped by a married man.
Nicci Harvey impressed as the no-nonsense Matron, occasionally showing that she has a heart, but the system didn’t extend to offering the girls emotional support. Catherine Couchman Reynolds was a wonderful contrast to everyone as Mary’s rather ‘proper’ mother, who couldn’t bear the ‘shame’ of her daughter’s condition. Such was life in the so-called Swinging Sixties.
Particular praise for this powerful production must go to the designers of the ingenious revolving stage and atmospheric sets, completed by a great Sixties soundtrack.
Edited from Gordon Birch’s review in the Harborough Mail
Photos by Andrew Wallace
The God of Carnage by Yasmina Reza
Two children have a scrap and one is injured. Their parents meet up to sort out the aftermath. That is the crux of God of Carnage, staged at Harborough Theatre the last week of September. It sounds straightforward but the adults’ meeting turns into a worse scenario than their children’s.
It is set in the home of awfully nice Michel and Veronique Valon amidst their precious art books and carefully arranged tulips. Equally ‘civilised’ are their guest Alain and Annette Reilles. But it’s not long before the bourgeois veneer starts to wear thin.
The four-strong cast romped along at a pace, which never slowed, using every word to maximum effect, and each actor impressively remained in character throughout.
Caitlin Mottram was a joy to behold as the arty Veronique with facial expressions extraordinaire. Mark Aspland was perfect as long-suffering husband, Michel, who eventually lost his cool.
Alison Kennerdell and Tom Mackenzie excelled as Annette and Alain and all four exposed their true selves once Michel opened the rum bottle. The apparent civility of the gathering turned out to be a charade, as between them they threw up, swore, argued and virtually came to blows.
Amidst all this there was humour thanks to the excellent script, originally written in French, which lost nothing in translation. Paul Barras and Steve Wilson, the directors, certainly served up a corker to open the new season.
Edited from Gordon Birch’s review in the Harborough Mail. (photos by Peter Crowe)
