Suspension, Old Vic Studio, Bristol

My big fat bleak wedding

Michael Coveney
Tuesday 03 March 2009 20:00 EST
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

It's about time Mamma Mia! writer Catherine Johnson said "Here we go again," in her own new play: the hit musical and the irresistibly bonkers and enjoyable movie have occupied most of her last 10 years.

So she's returned to her career roots in Bristol with a tangy wedding day "local" comedy in the Old Vic, the first show since the building was controversially closed for refurbishment 18 months ago.

Not only that, she's joined the board and been instrumental with chairman Dick Penny – a local hero who runs the Watershed digital multi-media centre – in appointing Tom Morris of the National Theatre as the next artistic director.

This is all tremendous news, and it's nearly well bolstered by the play itself. Taking a nudge from Alan Ayckbourn's The Revengers' Tragedies, Johnson shows us one man trying to stop another from throwing himself off a bridge; in Ayckbourn, it was the Albert Bridge, here it's the Clifton Suspension Bridge in Bristol. Both men are excluded fathers: Dean (Stuart McLoughlin) from his young son's everyday life after his partner's gone off with a new boyfriend; Gerry (James Lailey) from his daughter's wedding which is happening within hailing distance. Gerry's in morning suit en route to make a protest when he tangles with the would-be suicide and they both end up handcuffed together singing "We Shall Not Be Moved" to the crowds below.

Meanwhile, in the honeymoon suite, Gerry's daughter Jemma and her blowzy mum, Anita (wonderful Louise Plowright, an original cast member of Mamma Mia!), are squabbling over the details of Gemma's fiance's children attending the ceremony. Confusingly at first, Dean's ex-partner Kelly (slinky Sasha Frost) is sunning herself in Spain while her mum back home, Kaye, a sluttish old drunk in Rosalind March's superb portrayal, is, ahem, babysitting.

You just know something's going to go horribly wrong and it does – three times over. There are two dead and one serious hospitalisation by the end, as the seeming time slips in the two separate stories catch up with each other.

Mamma Mia! was also about absent fathers, flawed women and an impatient, temperamental wannabe bride. Here, Johnson reveals much more of her old talent for surprising you with sympathy for the devil in all of us. As a single parent herself, she's still touchingly able to suggest that nobody's perfect and that the only real victims of all the bust-ups and blame-mongering are the children.

There are times when you want to bang a lot of heads together, especially in the drawn-out mother and daughter scenes in the hotel. And would a bride really go shopping on the big day itself? But Heather Williams's production has a striking, sometimes scary, vivacity, and Tim Goodchild's ludicrously ambitious design in the small studio builds a looming bridge over the troubled waters at ground level, where Nik Howden flits hilariously about as a pop-picking local deejay with live coverage of the "incident".

The two dads are played with a compelling, even soft-centred muscularity by McLoughlin and Lailey, and April Pearson is convincingly spoilt and stupid as the bride, squeezing in a sympathetic hospital visit in full slap and sequinned white gown between ceremony and reception.

Like the play, she is bursting out of her stays, saying nothing, while the play is saying too much, and not always in a well-ordered order.

To 28 March (0117-987 7877)

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in