On the strength of his first play
93.2 FM, seen at the Royal Court
some 18 months ago, and now this co-production with Paines Plough, Levi
David Addai has a simplicity, directness and openness of spirit that
makes him both a powerful and a heartening writer of personal dramas.
The Agnes of the title is a matriarch about to retire to her native
Ghana and leave her south London house in the care of her two
twentysomething sons. Solomon, 26, is a humble shelf-stacker who has
been all but cut off for daring to move in with his girlfriend, whose
status in Agnes’ eyes as a “witch” seems largely due to her not being
Agnes; Caleb, 22, has always been his mother’s favourite, went to
university and is now something in the City… a mail-boy, as it turns
out, and harbouring a secret relationship more shocking (to Agnes, at
least) than that of his brother. We follow the family through the weeks
before Agnes’ scheduled departure, as Sol’s relationship with his
beloved Davina hits the rocks, Caleb has a crisis of his own and each
petitions to be allowed to lead his own life free of Agnes’ endless
commandments.
The foremost of these is not to walk in shoes on her nice white carpet.
By laying a long strip of thick, snowy shag-pile the whole way across
the space, designer Hannah Clark is tempting fate, especially as
director George Perrin has staged the play more or less in the round so
that half the audience will have to cross that carpet. Perrin also
makes interesting use of space behind two banks of audience seating for
secondary action.
Cecilia Noble makes a fine job of Agnes, one of those people who are
martyrs in their own eyes and tyrants in others’; Anwar Lynch and
Ludvig Bonin meet the challenge as her sons (although Lynch as Caleb is
prone to delivering his lines in a slight gabble). Addai writes his
characters’ most heartfelt emotions with the clarity and sincerity of a
younger Richard Cameron; only the occasional word is overplayed. His
Oxford Street, to be staged at the
Court in May, sounds as if it takes a broader canvas; I can hardly wait.
Written for the Financial
Times.