| Nicely Good, Not So Bad and Utterly Welsh |
At Frapetsus |
| Frapetsus- The Good, the Bad and the Welsh , Aberystwyth Arts Centre , September 26, 2014 |
In “the Good, the Bad and the Welsh” actor-writer-producer Jack Llewellyn returns with affection to his fictional Williams family of Trimsaran. It is the company’s sixth and largest tour and the author has probably taken his group of characters as far as they can go- in 2015 he returns to the game that bonds all his male characters in passion. The format of the 2014 production is similar to that in 2013. The two family groups are propelled from the comfort surroundings of Carmarthenshire, home and and club, to a distant place of tourism. The Aberystwyth performance takes place on a sizzler of a day in this Indian summer of a September. Nonetheless it attracts a sizeable house, interestingly with women in a majority. The reason is clear. The author really does like women. In a dramaturgical climate that has a not much of a track record for the depiction of women Jack Llewellyn gives his women the meatiest roles and the best lines. Manon Eames’ Angaharad opens the production and she and Nia Trussler Jones’ Poppy together close it. Jack Llewellyn himself takes again the role of Rhodri, a persona high in amiability but hopelessness, qualities that give the second act a surge of dramatic frisson. Danny Grehan and Tony Wright reprise their roles as Dai and Barry, their differences in background obscured by a common relaxedness of character, a passion for sport and the downing of beer in goodly quantities. They bemoan the state of matrimony while obviously adoring it. It is a play of such devotion to uxuriousness that Jack Llewellyn even stages a wedding, albeit led by the most unusual of hosts. Neil Harris’ Deano, in a switch of job from Mediterranean to Nevada, makes his first appearance as a Roman legionnaire and from there never looks back. A good precept for writing for performance is “think up a good climax first and work it oút backwards from there.” That is how it looks with “the Good, the Bad and the Welsh”. The two centre points- no spoilers in this review- both involve music, the first also a quartet of silver platform heels. Both are both audience-delighters on a high Richter scale. They easily compensate for a set of scenes that do meander slightly. Lois Jones’ Chelsea, who completes the cast of seven, is something of a dreamy figure, elegant, warm, lovingly swift to forgive an errant fiancée. No comedy works without a bite and the names “Chelsea” and “Rhodri” are the key to “the Good, the Bad and the Welsh.” Jack Llewellyn’s Trimsaran is a dozen miles from his place of upbringing, on the doorstep of his present home. That means he can write with familiarity. The Stradey Park Hotel is out as a venue as previous misdemeanours have led to Rhodri’s banning. Llewellyn is also unpatronising towards his characters and can write about them with unabashedness. Class difference, and class pretension, divide his two mothers, who are united in declaring that their childrens’ big day is their own while making claim on it as their own. Poppy in particular gets the lines of acidic putdown. Faced with a Spanish-themed Tapas dinner “o-bloody- lé” is the response. “He’s gathering his thoughts” she is told of her prospective son-in-law. “Shouldn’t take long then” she says. The script has a springiness to it: “the only time I see you walk is to the car, the bar and to Spar.” “It’s called being a mother” says one on defence of her behaviour. “It’s called being a smotherer” is the response. Jack Llewellyn makes affectionate visit to comedy conventions. The character with an object to conceal has to keep both hands behind his back and dance around avoiding the social convention of a handshake. The guest who has taken a few classes in wine-tasting quizzes his host on the origin of the drink he is offering. “It’s a local…Nisa” he says. “Hmm, I don’t know that one.” “The Good, the Bad and the Welsh” fills a gap in theatre in Wales. Too popular to receive public funding, probably correctly, it does not have the privilege of insulation from the need to sell a ticket or two. Not a lot of theatre gets to straddle the Dyfi boundary in the course of a year. Frapetsus’ comedy is uncompromisingly of Carmarthenshire but has national appeal, going down equally nicely in Colwyn Bay, and that is to its credit. |
Reviewed by: Adam Somerset |
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