Showing @ Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh until Sat 18 Oct @ 13:00 (& Fri 17 Oct @ 19:00)
With copious sloganeering and a rousing sung finale, the spirit of Red Clydeside is alive and well in this latest installment of the lunchtime A Play, A Pie and A Pint series, directed by Emma Callender.
From an armchair in a condemned Govan tenement, elderly Mary, eyesight failing, is spurred into recollection by the nostalgia shows playing on her old valve wireless. Via a series of flashbacks, she slowly comes to terms with bitter memories of her late sister, Grace, a hot-headed left-winger in thrall to the early Labour Party activist Mary Barbour, whose campaigning lifestyle disrupted Mary’s younger years. Back in 2014, Mary is now cared for by Grace’s daughter Joan, a zero hours contract carer. It’s a set of family circumstances that pitch the political radicalism of the mother as a solution to the poverty and injustices faced by the daughter.
This is unremittingly political theatre, with parallel feminist and socialist strands. Writer AJ Taudevin‘s forceful script leaves no room for uncertainty and no space for dissent. Even Mary, whose early life is derailed by her sister’s dedication to the cause, objects mainly to the strength of Grace’s convictions, not to their tenor. There is a tendency to overly explicatory dialogue, but this can be forgiven by the importance of conveying Mrs Barbour’s legacy.
Beneath the politics, there is quite a sweet story here about ageing and family relations. It is both refreshing and inspiring to see the introspection and frustrations of old age foregrounded and tenderly handled in this way. Anna Hepburn makes Mary’s irritations and resentments palpable and it’s only a shame there isn’t time within this short play to get more sense of the woman she wanted to become.
Mary’s flashbacks are also cleverly spaced so as to unravel the family’s story gradually. They’re pleasingly varied – from Libby McArthur‘s speech as Mrs Barbour to Gail Watson‘s monologue as the recently bereaved Grace addressing an unseen little Mary. There are even full-on, heartily sung left-wing anthems.
Watson’s warm, folky singing voice could stop the most hard-hearted landlord slinging a family out on the street, but you can’t help thinking the play’s purposes would be better served by delivering the message with more subtlety. As it stands, with renditions of The Internationale and a fair dose of soapbox speechifying, this socially relevant and politically important play may only preach to the converted.