★★★★★
The two main themes for this year’s Edinburgh Fringe, according to journalists who don’t see shows, were the ‘saturation of shows about trauma’ and ‘what can we do to ensure more working-class representation?’ The latter usually quoted by the most privileged producers and companies. Yet, Kelly Jones has written a play that dissects both notions with razor-sharp acuity. The deft emotional resonance in every scene, manages to be very funny yet heartbreaking, with a strong satirical streak.
Nicole Sawyerr as Abigail is the embodiment of the working-class theatre-maker. The way she interacts with the gatekeeping middle-class producer or the arrogant actor; that mix of timid, almost terrified energy, like calming an apex predator, mixed with a building frustration and tortured anger. It’s a testament to Rachael Nanyonjo’s movement direction to show the reality of status between creatives.
Plays about our industry can be accused of self-indulgence, the difference here, is that My Mother’s Funeral speaks to a general audience but also excoriates the exploitative nature of those who run the industry.
The idea that Abigail wouldn’t be able to afford her mum’s funeral, may seem far-fetched to some, but this poverty is far too common in the U.K. That she cannot choose what to write about to be commissioned, but to pimp the most vulnerable part of herself because she’s desperate is the reality we face!
Samuel Armfield’s dual role of the director and Abigail’s brother is a wonderful contrast. To see an embodiment of everything that’s wrong with British Theatre is a relief. Armfield doesn’t play a cliché, but a very real arrogance and lack of self-awareness. His portrayal of Darren is full of the warmth and vulnerability rarely conveyed when working-class men are on stage.
Debra Baker gives a stellar performance as Ab’s Mum. Funny, real and a tribute to all our mums. Showing a real mum in comparison to the mum the middle-class producers want is the heart of this play. Baker, as the actor is very funny, but very poignant, a privileged, annoying posh-o who never listens to the writer but falls into bigoted stereotypes, ‘so she’s selfish, an alcoholic?’ Lauren Mooney’s dramaturg has brought out these elements that ironically would’ve been lost in a poverty porn piece.
Charlotte Bennett’s direction manages to navigate the contrast between the play and the play-within-a-play clearly, no easy task. Rhys Jarman’s costume and set is controlled, beginning with minimalism, yet as the producers take over and exploit Abigail’s story we see more dirt, football paraphernalia and all the signifiers of what ‘working-class’ means. Joshue Gadsby’s lighting and Asaf Zohar sound represents the harsh realities of bereavement and the isolation of working-class artists.
In an industry where working-class voices are squeezed more and more, it’s great to see Paines Plough continuing its long tradition of harnessing and championing essential new writing; Kelly Jones now sits alongside Sarah Kane and James Graham in Paines list of great writers. Jones has written a perfect riposte to the manufactured conversations we are currently having in British Theatre, but rather than a naval-gazing exercise, this play is both a middle-finger to the industry but also a call-to-arms.
My Mother’s Funeral: The Show is currently on tour in the U.K.
