An immortal piece of writing from Mike Leigh has new life breathed into it at the Grand Theatre. David Simper may not have seen Abigail’s Party before but found plenty he was familiar with in this 1970’s cult classic.
Having heard so much about Mike Leigh’s 1977 play Abigail’s Party over the years, including the original Beverley, Alison Steadman, talking about the original production on Radio 4, this was a must see for me at the Grand Theatre. I must have heard the Demis Roussos clip a hundred times, although another artist is substituted here โ I knew a little, including that Abigail does not appear in the play.
There was no curtain, giving time to examine the set and its 1970 artefacts. My sister had a music centre like that, we had a dial telephone like that, they missed a trick as the toilet was not advocado. It didn’t quite capture the full horror of ’70’s design, but it was a jolly good try. In other respects, the booze and the fags, the shag pile carpet, it was spot on โ the Beaujolais wine could have been complemented by Blue Nun.
This new production of the cult-classic is directed by Jack Bradfield who won the prestigious RTST Sir Peter Hall Director Award last year. The piece is a five hander, two couples โ Tony and Angela (Joe Blakemore and Chaya Gupta), new arrivals in the street, her keen to fit in and aspirational and Laurence and Beverley (Leander Deeny and Laura Rogers), an apparently mismatched pair. Then there’s Sue (Amy Rockson) a long-term resident and divorcee, the mother of Abigail from whose party she is taking refuge with Laurence and Beverley.
The dialogue is incredible containing all the shallowness, materialism and general emptiness of middle-class suburban life.
Beverley immediately falls for taciturn ex-footballer Tony, who appears barely able to make a response beyond two syllables until he shows violence to Angela, hinted at earlier in the piece. Laurence clearly likes Sue and dances with her nicely. He defies stereotypes of estate agents by taking the role of the intellectual โ it’s clear his relationship with the hedonistic Beverley is weak and she takes opportunities to humiliate him. At one stage there seems to be danger of an outbreak of wife swapping, countered by Angela’s jealousy.
The dialogue is incredible containing all the shallowness, materialism and general emptiness of middle-class suburban life, exemplified by Angela’s fascination with a carbon fibre lamp. It is very funny, but stop and think about it and it’s also rather depressing. Laurence tries to break this by talking about architecture, social change around them, or art but is called boring and then humiliated. He has paintings, but so does Beverley โ her painting is well-known to those of us who remember the ’70’s, being vulgar but I hope lucrative for the artist, multi-millions must have been sold.
Don’t cool your Beaujolais, and preferably drink something else.
Booze is a sixth character in the piece, with constant cries of ‘do you want another drink?’ The acting is superb in calibrating the degree of intoxication and its effects on behaviour as the cast overall sinks enough ethanol to fell a large rhinoceros. Laurence, Tony and Sue keep cooler heads (although somehow Sue slips up). There is a little bit of class-based observation as Sue brings the bottle of Beaujolais, Beverley puts it in the fridge, Laurence correctly salvages it, only for Beverley to return it when she notices. Don’t cool your Beaujolais, and preferably drink something else.
Meanwhile Abigail’s party proceeds, the sound of the Sex Pistols (I have that album) penetrating through the walls. Laurence and Tony go round to check out what’s happening. Tony arrives back much later than Laurence โ what has happened, and why is Tony’s shirt wet, has someone thrown a drink over him, if so why? That one’s left hanging. The plot moves on as an inebriated Beverley drapes herself over Tony, much to the disgust of a jealous Angela and an irritated Laurence.
Tempers begin to fray and at that point a really bad thing happens. Angela and particularly Tony are together enough to deal with it, but the lights dropped with things not looking too good.
The acting couldn’t have been much better and the piece was completely absorbing. I was worried that the action would be too cringy for me, but it wasn’t. I was laughing out loud at several junctures, but I note again that one was also left slightly deflated if one thought beyond the humour. This piece reminded me why I hate parties, particularly the conversational skills one is expected to have, where the bull shit merchant is king or queen. I suppose this was more of a soiree, but same difference.
Do go and see ths fine production, whether or not you’ve seen the original. This is an immortal piece of writing from Mike Leigh. The curtain call applause was loud, long and sincere.
Abigail’s Party is at the Grand Theatre until 26th October. Book here.
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