Tuesday evening Pawn returned once again to The Hope Theatre for some light drama. This evening’s fare was a pair of monologues, produced by Ragged Foils, as an offshoot of their Ragged Scratch Podcast series. In this performance we have first Katy Maw delivering Jam Tart, by Rhiannon Owens, directed by Natalie Winter.

Clare (Maw) is a fifty-something wife and mother of two who has always found herself agreeing with others, and doing as they have, and finds herself now, feeling old and used up, and unrealized. On a whim, she tells us, she left home in her sleepy village and spent the night in a travel-lodge, all of 200 metres from home. But the next day, feeling a boldness new to her, she takes a bus to the other end of town and sets up life anew. No husband, no kids (they’re both grown now, no abandonment), and no job.

She starts fresh, and finds a way to break free from always doing as others do, or as others expect. Along the way she rekindles a relationship with her older brother, an adult relationship, which is totally fresh to her.

All of that in about 40 minutes, no action, no blocking, no props (aside from a water bottle). Maw simply sits in a chair facing us, and tells us her story. And does so brilliantly.

Cathy (Mary Tillet), a woman of a certain age, sits down in her bath robe and starts to tell us about her perspectives on life. Or she tries to, in this story by Nick Maynard. She keeps getting diverted down story telling side streets, ranging into precincts as yet unmapped. But she does, finally, return to purpose, telling us her thoughts on the treatment of immigrants and suffering. She talks about her life, and desires to travel; her late husband and their kids are mentioned, but more in passing and to provide a frame.

I shan’t delve too far into her story, as it is lovely and deserves to be heard as new. While neither of these stories is yet available as a podcast on Ragged Scratch, I’d expect they’ll show up there in time. Keep your eye (or ears) on this site as they’ve certainly got a good thing going!

A musical based on the nearly 30 year old Robert Redford/Demi Moore/Woody Harrelson film Indecent Proposal? Who would conceive of such a thing, and why? People have been asking themselves this very question ever since Southwark Playhouse announced that 10 to 4 Productions would be bringing this to their stage. But, to clarify, they claim they’re basing this production on the original novel, by Jack Engelhard, and make no reference to the film.

I have no photos for this entry, as photography was prohibited, even before the show. But there are some rehearsal shots over at Southwark’s website.

The stage is small but jam packed. There’s a small thrust upstage, which holds the band, drums, baby grand piano, bass, guitar, rhythm guitar, vocalist and more. Under the stage is a roll-out holding a bed and a surface which doubles as a blackjack table in some scenes and a nightstand in others (depending on how far out the trundle is rolled). A few cabaret tables and chairs dot the remaining stage floor. Anna Kelsey (sets, costumes) and Hartley T A Kemp (lights) have done a lot with a little here. But the real charmer, from a technical standpoint, is Leigh Davies soundscape. This is fully dimensional, providing a realistic backdrop of casino sounds, thunderstorms, etc., throughout the evening.

Performances were roundly good in the preview performance. Lines were solid, as was delivery. Special kudos to Jacqui Dankworth for her portrayal of Annie Poole, the acerbic nightclub singer, friend of Jonny (Norman Bowman). Not only are her songs performed so well, but she has the best read on her character. Lizzy Connolly as Rebecca and Ako Mitchell as Larry Harris round out the principals. About the only problems I detected during this performance were audio-related, as the company and board operators are working through the issues related to live performance with amplified instruments, body mics, and all of that. One trusts these will get sorted prior to opening night.

I’ll admit that I came to this fully prepared to hate it, but in all honesty, it was a good night of theatre. Well staged, well performed. The story still repulses, to a degree, but the smarm is dated. We’re reminded of this pre-show, as the piped-in music is all hits from the 80s & 90s.

When one enters the small, cramped, performance space above the Hope & Anchor pub, Upper Street, Islington, a man lays sprawled on the floor, furiously tracing lines with chalk on the black floor. One cannot discern what it is he’s up to, what sort of image this is. There are chains of small lamps draped across overhead, a galvanized wash tub on one end of the small stage, a ladder against a wall, and the chalk lines on the floor.

The lights dim, and rise again. A woman has entered the stage, and runs at the man, throws herself onto the floor, seeking to erase the lines he has painstakingly traced. Over the next several minutes this man and this woman engage in fierce embrace, violent struggle, erotic, vicious, beautiful, dramatic. Like an entire lifetime together, distilled into dance.

New Zealand poet Denis Glover, in 1964, penned the much beloved poem, The Magpies, about a farming couple and their struggles. Here it is:

When Tom and Elizabeth took the farm
The bracken made their bed
and Quardle oodle ardle wardle doodle
The magpies said

Tom’s hand was strong to the plough
and Elizabeth’s lips were red
and Quardle oodle ardle wardle doodle
The magpies said

Year in year out they worked
while the pines grew overhead
and Quardle oodle ardle wardle doodle
The magpies said

But all the beautiful crops soon went
to the mortgage man instead
and Quardle oodle ardle wardle doodle
The magpies said

Elizabeth is dead now (it’s long ago)
Old Tom’s gone light in the head
and Quardle oodle ardle wardle doodle
The magpies said

The farm’s still there. Mortgage corporations
couldn’t give it away
and Quardle oodle ardle wardle doodle
The magpies say.

Louise Hoare and Adam Slynn embody Elizabeth and Tom in sweeping, near operatic fashion, in Skin Tight at the Hope Theatre through 6 November. This is a reprise of a 2017 production, also starring Hoare, which wowed critics and audiences alike. When Pawn made plans to celebrate his birthday in London, J chose this show to cap off the evening, neither of us quite knowing what it was about.

This is a very different sort of play. It’s based on The Magpies, but only in the loosest of manners. It is dramatic, to be sure; intense and pressing. But it is really about memory, the sweep of time, the way one remembers oneself remembering. Elizabeth is gone, or is going. Tom once left her (off to war) and that betrayal is one she never forgave him for. She responded with her own betrayal, one he never forgave her for. They farmed, and loved, and had a family, and grew old. All the time their fierce love and devotion persisted.

And now we are inside of Tom’s mind (or that’s how I choose to perceive it) and he is remembering over and over again their lives together. They are so beautiful and young, fit and passionate, but they are aging and infirm, arguing over their daughter’s letters from her London discontent.

Throughout Skin Tight one sees echos of the opening dance, that violent pas de deux which started the show. Each gesture and move of that dance appears again, in sequence, in the following narrative. And each time we recognize this a small shiver erupts. But soon enough (the show is just under an hour) Elizabeth and Tom have fallen quiet, the music recedes, and all we’re left with is the chalk lines on the floor.

Skin Tight was a lovely, moving piece of theatre. Much recommended.