“There’s a limit to what you can do”
Good theatre makes you think, but great theatre makes you dig deep to really
contemplate the deeper questions in life and how you might react in a similar
situation. Peter Nichols’ 1967 play A Day In The Death of Joe Egg sits firmly
in the latter category and in this magnificent production – a joint effort
between the Rose Theatre Kingston and the Liverpool Everyman and Playhouse and
directed by Stephen Unwin – it deals sensitively but firmly with the
challenging reality of being parents to a severely disabled child.
Schoolteacher Bri hates his job and dreams of becoming a stand-up comedian – a
juxtaposition which is beautifully realised in a highly amusing opening
sequence – but his dissatisfaction has much deeper roots. His 10 year old
daughter Josephine can’t do anything unaided or communicate with the outside
world and the strains on his marriage to Sheila are really starting to show,
they get by turning their life into one big comedy routine to numb themselves
from the brutal truth of their situation.
As this central couple, Ralf Little and Rebecca Johnson are heart-breakingly
good. The tragedy of Bri’s desperation at what he sees as the growing
hopelessness of his life is well-essayed by Little and intensified by the
almost farcical comedy that Nichols counterpoints it with. And Johnson radiates
a different kind of strength as the ‘one who copes’, no less funny or moving
but somehow more connected, more certain that they are on the right course.
Their interactions with their child are just gorgeous, whether singing a carol,
murmuring about the silkiness of her skin, joking about the day’s activities,
one is never in doubt of the immense love they hold.
And as they relay the horrendous trials of their daughter’s treatment by an
unfeeling world and skirt around the question of whether it is all really worth
it, it is impossible not to be grabbed by their dilemmas and be shocked at the
way the society did (and to a large extent still does…) treat those who are
different. These external viewpoints are brought to life by a sharply observed
supporting cast – Owen Oakeshott’s ostentatiously understanding Freddie and
Sally Tatum’s precious Pamela being two of Sheila’s friends, and Marjorie
Yates’ marvellously blunt Grace, Bri’s mother – all of whom give voice to the
things we dare not say and really force us to interrogate the attitudes we
possess.
It is frequently very funny – something alluded to by Simon Higlett’s bright
Monty Python inspired set – but the humour is always bittersweet as we’re never
allowed to forget the gravity of the subject matter. And Nichols and Unwin –
both of whom know exactly of what they speak from personal experience – further
remind us of this by keeping Joe in the centre of our vision for much of the
play, Jessica Bastick-Vines giving an extraordinary physical performance. Yet
it never becomes too much, the seriousness is levied with humour, its anguish
with compassion, and together it makes a combination that demands to be seen.
Running time: 2 hours 20 minutes
Booking until 18th May
Labels: Jessica Bastick-Vines, Marjorie Yates, Owen Oakeshott, Peter Nichols, Ralf Little, Rebecca Johnson, Sally Tatum