The Rise And Fall Of Little Voice - Review

Barn Theatre, Cirencester



***


Written by Jim Cartwright
Directed by Michael Strassen

Sarah Louise Hughes

A first and long overdue trip to Cirencester’s Barn Theatre where one finds an imaginative conversion of historic buildings into a modern theatre, whose facilities are bright and attractive. If there is one complaint it is that the seating rake is only applied to alternate rows - and thus there exists a distinct possibility of being seated behind a visually obstructive person in front. No doubt though that this is a problem that can relatively easily be remedied. What is clear is that a beautiful venue has been created in a beautiful town and it deserves artistic success.

That artistic success however is hard to spot in the Barn’s current production of The Rise And Fall Of Little Voice, where Jim Cartwright’s play, which should be a scorching contrast of the highs and lows of the human condition falls short of the target. To summarise, Little Voice (LV) is the teenage daughter of Mari Hoff - a neglectful mother. Known as LV because she barely speaks, the young girl has withdrawn into a world in which she has learned to sing, perfectly, the recordings of Cilla Black, Shirley Bassett, Marilyn Monroe, Edith Piaf etc etc, having played them incessantly from her late father’s vinyl collection. When Mari comes home drunk one night accompanied by sleazy music manager Ray Say, in pursuit of a sordid sofa fumble, Say happens to overhear LV singing. Recognising her commercial potential as a singer, a painful tale of differing hopes, aspirations and brutal disappointment unfolds.

The strengths in this show  will always flow from the young woman playing LV and in Sarah Louise Hughes, director Michael Strassen has unearthed a gem. Fresh out of Italia Conti and a NYMT alumna to boot, Hughes offers a depth and wisdom to her portrayal of the damaged daughter that belies her age. Dramatically convincing and vocally perfect, she captures LV’s complexities while offering a sensational take on some of the last century’s greatest songs.

Unfortunately the excellence stops there. Gillian McCafferty plays Mari who, while managing to display much maternal misery, mangles most of Cartwright’s carefully crafted text. There is wry, bittersweet humour written into her role which should leave the audience, certainly for much of the first half, chuckling uncomfortably. All too often however, Mari’s wit is swept away in a garble of rushed prose. McCafferty makes a decent fist of a couple of monologues, and in both acts too, but they are too little too late.

Gary Richards is Ray Say - and again Strassen has let what could be a critically acidic and nasty character be fleshed out in little more than cardboard. Richards lacks passion and credibility and while his stumbling over lines could be forgiven, when set against an overall lacklustre delivery he sails perilously close to bringing the audience’s delicately suspended disbelief crashing to the ground.. The second act demands that he sings Roy Orbison’s classic It’s Over. Done well, this should be a moment of theatrical electricity - the swan song of a rat, gasping for air at the bottom of life’s barrel. In this show, the song is rendered dull and devoid of passion. 

There are other moments of redemption - Say’s exchanges with local club owner Mr Boo (Stephen Omer) are sleazily credible as the men plot their exploitation of LV’s innocent potential. Hadley Brown puts in a turn of some credible kindness as the telephone engineer who forges a real emotional connection with LV. Likewise Larissa Hunter’s Sadie, Mari’s much put upon best friend is another modest role, performed with care and craft.

But aside from Hughes’ magical touch, this show is an opportunity squandered. Strassen, usually a master in portraying the grit of hard Northern lives, is better than this.

Runs until 4th August

Photo credit: Benjamin Collins

The Rise and Fall of Little Voice - Review

Union Theatre, London


*****


Written by Jim Cartwright
Directed by Alastair Knights

The company

The final production at the Union Theatre's old residence has been an absolute cracker. Jim Cartwright's The Rise and Fall of Little Voice is a brilliantly observed study of life in a northern town through the multi-faceted prism of Mari Hoff and her gifted daughter Little Voice (abbreviated to LV). Hoff's husband (and LV's father) is long dead and as this monstrously merry widow cavorts desperately in search of love and affection, so does LV retreat into a world in which her only solace comes from her dad's record collection of the 20th century's greatest singers. But more than just hiding behind the songs, LV has learned to mimic them perfectly, bringing life to the background drab routine like a shaft of sunlight. Cartwright's text may be merciless as it exposes both Mari's and LV's excoriating loneliness - but it is the detail imbued in his supporting characters that make the play so compelling.

The play has closed now, so this review must stand solely as a record to one of the most moving productions that the Union has mounted in recent years, with Alastair Knights coaxing perfectly nuanced performances from his entire cast.

Charlotte Gorton was Mari. Mutton masquerading as lamb maybe, hers was a cleverly constructed and complex character. Tottering across the stage on heels and clad in either leopard print leggings or tattily torn stockings, Mari is craving to be wanted by a man, yet at the same time fiercely protective and loving of her virtually catatonic daughter. After talent spotter Ray Say drives her home for a drunken fumble on the sofa, Gorton’s gradual realisation that Say is more interested in Mari’s vocally gifted daughter rather than her, is a masterclass in performance. Credit too to Christiansen’s ruthlessly cynical Say. The man is an utter bastard as Christiansen delivered a withering yet sadly recognizable performance.

Carly Thoms’ Little Voice was wondrous. She captured LV’s damaged fragility with a painful piquancy and when the script required her to sing, often without a musical accompaniment. Thoms duly delivered spine-tingling excellence.

Likewise the supporting vignettes were all a treat. Mandy Dassa’s corpulent Sadie, Mari’s obedient yet loving friend is a fine example of a minor character perfectly complementing and completing a scene’s ambience. At the town’s local night club James Peake played compere and impresario Mr Boo again, perfectly. As the fourth wall is brought down to make the theatre audience evolve into the club’s crowd, the applause for LV is as sincere as it is pastiche. Peake’s Brylcreemed delivery of corny gags and patter was just another of the night’s gems, while Glenn Adamson’s softly spoken Billy, a quietly withdrawn telephone engineer offered a perfectly weighted performance as a mutual affection between him and LV emerged.

Yet again, Jack Weir’s lighting was sensational, using the Union’s exposed ironworks to mount marquee nightclub lights and ingeniously creating different locations with his carefully considered plots.

There’s a moment in act two when Ray Say, drunk and in despair, takes to the microphone on Boo’s nightclub stage after realizing that LV is unable to perform. Christiansen was sensational as the destroyed exploiter, and as he powerfully slurred his way through a Roy Orbison classic, in one of the final performances ever to be mounted at the Union’s old premises, there was an added poignancy to the song. A gleaming new building may await the Union just across the road, but for this quaint, damp building, all brickwork and iron girders, itself an archaic tribute to both London’s history and the brilliant ingenuity of fringe theatre, It’s Over.