Alan Ayckbourn is both generous and
fastidious in his supply of plays: he likes to package several at a
time together neatly. A few years ago he induced apoplexy in the
Scarborough theatre crew well into preparations for his new diptych of
plays by announcing apologetically that they were now a triptych; this
season, to complement his two extant “supernatural” plays
Haunting Julia (1994, three male
roles) and
Snake In The Grass
(2002, three female roles), he has written a third (his 71st play in
all!), to utilise all six players.
Often, though, the individual plays are lesser creations when removed
from the package. In this case, viewing
Life And Beth without having seen
its predecessors, I felt that I was watching a coda having missed the
main work. By all accounts, the other two plays are darker in tone than
this whimsical tale of Beth, the late-middle-aged widow of an
over-enthusiastic health and safety manager who finds that he is
refusing to let even death slow him down… in other words, his smugly
prattling ghost continues to try to order her life.
Liza Goddard enjoys playing against type, as with her Beth here, a
phlegmatic Yorkshirewoman. Conversely, Susie Blake often relishes
getting blowsy as in her portrayal of Connie, the late Gordon’s
Merlot-swilling estuarial sister. As for Adrian McLoughlin’s portrayal
of Gordon himself, imagine Harry Enfield’s “You don’t wanna do that!”
character magnified several times and played by the late Reg Varney.
It’s nicely written and cleverly staged in the playwright’s own
production (including a final set of
coups
de théâtre which mock virtually all that has gone
before). However, it’s less akin to his prime slices of dramatic
chiaroscuro where powerful
poignancy and/or bitterness flows along just beneath the laughs, and
more like the easily digestible fare which is what most folk
(mis)understand Ayckbourn’s work to be. It is also a play about
closure, and suggests that Mr A is now turning his mind to the imminent
end of his (by then) 37-year artistic directorship of this theatre and
its predecessors; the autumn/winter season will be his last before
Chris Monks takes over the helm. I suspect that Gordon is Ayckbourn’s
unflattering caricature of his own continued presence staging his works
at the SJT during his “afterlife”, but I’m sure there will be no call
for a similar exorcism.
Written for the Financial
Times.