Showing @ Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh until Sat 13 Sep @ times vary
National Theatre of Scotland have revived Joe Corrie‘s play about the effects of the 1926 General Strike on a Fife mining community ostensibly to mark the thirtieth anniversary of the 1984 Miners’ Strike. But in referendum week it’s not long before you are reading wider significance into it.
This is undeniably strong political writing, even ninety years on. It is Steinbeckian in its grim depiction of working class life, two dirt poor families forced into ever greater privations in a battle of wills with their ‘maisters’ at the coal mine. Illness, hunger and welfare cuts all chip away at the fragile community until before long, friends and family who should be united are taking opposing stances on their common problem. Remind you of anything?
The bare play could stand alone, particularly given the commanding performances of the elder generation – Tam (Tom McGovern), Jock (John Kazek) and Jean (Anita Vettesse) – but, perhaps in deference to modern audiences, it has been heavily layered with music, poetry and dance by director Graham McLaren.
In overall effect, this is not unlike the TV series Peaky Blinders with its striking blend of working class grit, dark modern rock and heavily choreographed fight scenes. Unlike that programme, the music is less judiciously used. The open numbers, including songs by PJ Harvey and Pete Seeger, run a couple of minutes beyond mere scene-setting. Then, although sometimes offering thrilling enhancements to the action, such as the crunching guitar which accompanies Jock’s chair-throwing rage, they’re often an overlong departure from the story.
Much more potent are the poetry set pieces. These are delivered by the full cast, centre stage, almost call-and-response style, with the intensity of an old-time preacher. “Even God does not see the hyprocrisy and shame of it all,” they warn us. The dance segments are similarly powerful. Part freewheeling ceilidh, part boot-stomping protest march, they’re often punctuated with anguished twists and turns or sudden slumps to the floor. It’s both the vigour and the agonies of the early trade union movement. The whole thing is simply but beautifully staged in a bar-cum-miner’s-welfare, which is cleverly lit by the cast themselves as they flick light switches entering and leaving.
There’s no preaching about this play, just anguish that is plain to see, and a sense that you’re damned whatever you do. Referendum anyone?
In Time O’ Strife – Trailer (2014) from National Theatre of Scotland on Vimeo.