4/5 stars
It’s 1980s England. Thatcher is Prime Minister. There are no jobs in the area of Lancashire we find ourselves in. The ever courteous narrator, Scullery, invites us to join him and explore the streets, corners and lives behind the closed doors of his Road.
The play has only a few characters we follow through until the end. Otherwise, it’s almost like watching a documentary. Sometimes characters could almost be talking to a camera; other times, they talk to themselves. Most are not alone, which makes for funny dialogue. We sit in on everything from an old lady making tea to a young couple on hunger strike. The characters all have a different story but all are shrouded in poverty. They talk about alcohol, sex, music, violence, spirituality. It gets very vulgar; it gets very sad. It’s all interesting.
The action begins in the foyer. The play is not wholly interactive but the fourth wall is well and truly broken as the characters weave in and out of the crowds, offering chips or a small chat. There is barely any seating in the actual auditorium except the odd bench: you sit alongside the action, under the streetlamps or perched on the edge of an old lady’s sitting room.
Sometimes this is awkward: be prepared to have gyrating women in your face, shuffle to make way for drunks in trolleys, crane your neck or jump in surprise as a character appears from behind you. Occasionally this doesn’t work so well simply for lack of space, but I guess this adds to the effect of the cramped homes.
This kind of theatre is a little like being in the London Dungeon: unnerving, slightly awkward, but all together a lot of fun. All performances are flawless and the actors do well to accommodate everyone despite the space.
This play is certainly not one you’ll forget. There’s lipstick on the walls, vomit on the stage, and the monologues reel off like the darkest Artic Monkey’s lyrics. It will make you uncomfortable and it will make you laugh. Both things are good for you. Oh, and there’s a disco in the interval.
Road tickets can be booked here.
Edited by Harriet Dunlea