MORT

THE late Jack Mitchley would have been proud of the professionalism exhibited by the Players in their first production since his death. Although the acting, directing and costumes were difficult to fault, the choice of play, an adaptation of a bizarre and muddled Terry Pratchett anorak-fantasy was misguided for a show aimed at re-launching the 52-year-old group into a new era.

Powell put in a confident and largely fine performance as the lead, his only weakness being an occasional lack of emotion. Early in the play, for example, when bidding farewell to his father (Robbie Chittick) for ever, Chittick looked and sounded genuinely upset, while Powell delivered an unconvincing Bye, Dad!. But the real star of the show was Branwell, whose presence, booming voice and spot-on timing made him the perfect Death and the source of plenty of laughs.

Other strong performances came from Dave Hearn as smooth-talking wizard Cutwell, and despite their relatively small parts, Doug Sheppard as the hilariously petrified employment exchange clerk faced with a career change-seeking Death, and a very regal Gordon Hewlett as the confused and elderly King of Sto Lat, also stood out.

But the play was too long and complex, becoming particularly confusing towards the end - and while raising a smile in parts, most of the jokes were of the poor 70s sitcom mould.  To be fair, the play was billed as one for Terry Pratchett fans, something Im not. But while still an enjoyable evening, it seemed a shame for such clear talent, enthusiasm and attention to detail to be wasted on such a weak script.

Ben Wilkinson

THE TALE OF THE TINDER BOX

Hans Christian Andersens frankly bonkers tale about an antique matchbox controlling massive dogs was no doubt originally set in some enchanted Bavarian backwater but the weirdness of the story was inescapable - as was the sheer terror shown by a majority of the cast.

Soldier Sam (Michael Doe) has been demobbed and is wandering the countryside when he is approached for help by witch Mrs Hitch - a suitably creepy performance from Jennifer Southwell. She asks him to go underground to retrieve a tinder box and while there he helps himself to some gold guarded by the aforementioned eloquent canines. He refuses to give her the box and the newly moneyed Sam heads off to the city where orphan Tom (Perry Barker) becomes his page.

Sam becomes curious about Princess Phoebe - played haughtily by Jennifer Dogherty - and he discovers if he uses the box he can summon one of the dogs to bring her to him. They fall in love, but Mrs Hitch, who works as the Princesss maid, follows her and has the King and Queen (Jon McNamara and Biddy McAlpine) plan Sams execution. He is eventually saved though by Tom who retrieves the box, which unleashes the dogs on the baying monarchy, allowing Sam and Phoebe to take the throne.

If you can find some sort of allegory or cautionary note in that lot then send the answer in on a postcard. It is infuriating at times to see a cast of talented actors throw away such a great chance to go hugely over the top by instead opting for the naturalistic approach. This was a production screaming out for caricatures.

The children in the audience all seemed to enjoy themselves, however, and quite frankly they are the better judge than some cantankerous reviewer whose seat was so old it wouldn’t have been out of place in Dads Armys village hall. But please, be braver next time Players.

Jim Tanfield

Harlow Star Review, March 22^nd 2007.

SNAKE IN THE GRASS

This devious Alan Ayckbourn play given a suitably unrestrained make over which acutely conveyed the neuroses of its haunted women.

Snake in the Grass could easily be misinterpreted on the part of the direction but Jon McNamara did an effective job in teasing out the nuances of the plots shifting complexities.  Ostensibly a murderous tale of two sisters and a nurse intent on blackmail, it opens with Annabel (MHP newcomer Claire Quley) returning to the crumbling family estate for her inheritance after the death of the father.  She little expects to be confronted by his former nurse, Alice Moody (Biddy McAlpine), who claims Annabels younger sister Miriam (Karen Clark) has in fact murdered him,a claim Miriam herself soon confirms.

What follow is a plot that twists and turns like the beast of the title, involving body in a well, a mysterious presence haunting the tennis court, and an empty rocking chair that seems to rock of its own accord.  Ayckbourns description of it as a ghost-play proves somewhat disingenuous as the piece is by turns a black comedy, a thriller and a psychological drama. The initial comic bickering between the sisters gives way to introspection, self-pity and confession against a backdrop of marital and familial abuse in both the sexual and mental sense. Clarke and Quley played the sisters with growing intensity while McAlpine exuded a palpable air of callous avarice.

A play of twists and turns in both plot and shifting relationships, MHP should be applauded for tackling its complexities and producing a well rounded performance of a difficult drama.

Chris Moss

Harlow Star Review, May 17^th 2007.

In The Company Of Campton

Tribute to mediocrity wastes groups talent

Harlow Star Review, July 19^th 2007

Back on form with a slice of pure theatre

WHEN written in 1959, Sir Arnold Wesker’s portrayal of the meaning of perceived metropolitan ideals in post-war Norfolk was innovative and passionate – so doing it justice in the 21st century was a tough call for an amateur group. But after several hit and miss productions since the death of the group’s dramaturge Jack Mitchley two years ago, Moot House Players’ integrity and perseverance has finally paid dividends.

The reassurance came when a glorious set was seen – complete with that quintessential Angry Young Man prop, the kitchen sink. And thankfully the dreadfully awkward tiered seating and dreary fourth wall staging have now been drop-kicked in favour of performance in the round. But as any schoolboy knows, brilliant sets and imaginative and brave staging count for nothing unless the direction and performances are worthy.

Returning to her farm labourer family in Norfolk from the London home she shares with her communist boyfriend Ronnie, Beatie Bryant (Claire Quley) soon gets up their noses. Spouting Ronnie’s philosophical mantras and berating her mother (Biddy McAlpine) for her enjoyment of third-rate music and gossip, it becomes obvious Beatie is out of her depth and deeply unhappy. Awaiting Ronnie’s arrival the whole Bryant family is gathered around for tea, all disliking him despite never meeting him, due to the effect he has had on his herald Beatie. A letter arrives but no Ronnie, and Beatie’s ignominy is complete when the missive states he is dumping her.

Quley shone as the vulnerable yet pious Beatie, her talents being brought to the fore in her closing ‘epiphany’ when she realises she can think intellectually without Ronnie. David Schacht was perfect and very funny for the allegorical figure of Stan Mann whose off-stage death signalled the start of modern British thinking, even in Norfolk - well, some of it. McAlpine and Geoff Leeds as the parents and Ian Beckett as the brother Frankie also gave sterling performances – simple, but effective in portraying a bucolic mentality being disturbed by Beatie’s city thinking.

The entire cast and director Tony Edwards deserve recognition for the obvious hard work they put in to bringing pure theatre back to their audience. Norfolk may be flat, but this wasn’t!
Jim Tanfield