Author Peter Nichols tells us in the excellent programme notes of the difficulties of gaining a license from the Lord Chamberlain’s Office to perform Joe Egg in its early days. It’s very strange to look back at this now, as the questions of taste and decency under scrutiny are mostly things that no-one would bat an eyelid at today. Mild innuendo or references to sex made when there is a young person on stage would hardly be a barrier in our society. However, terms that have all but been expunged from our modern vocabulary pop up frequently and casually in the text and make our hair stand on end. To a 1960s or ‘70s audience it would have seemed quite ordinary to use some of this pejorative language that is no longer in any way considered acceptable.
Simon Higlett’s stylised and immaculately dressed set drops us straight into period, and here we meet Bri, a disillusioned teacher (Ralf Little) who I could swear used to take me for geography 40 years ago. Bri is eventually joined by his wife, Sheila (Rebecca Johnson) and then their daughter Joe (Jessica Bastick-Vines).
Both parents love Joe, but her severe disability is placing unbearable strain on their relationship. Bri paints cowboy scenes and Sheila has started amateur dramatics to give her a rest from the day to day caring, but even this has only served to add further jealousies to the already wobbly equilibrium.
By the time we reach the end of act one we have already had a good measure of both laughter and tears and when the interval is announced in heart rending fashion it's hard to see where else the play can take us.
Cue act two, in which we meet Owen Oakeshott and Sally Tatum as Freddie, the am-dram leading man and Pamela his wife, followed by Bri's mother, Grace, played by Marjorie Yates.
There follows a whirlpool of political incorrectness of truly astonishing proportions but we are able to see that much of what is being said is the norm for the time. Nonetheless much of the dialogue has the capacity to stun one moment while getting belly laughs the next.
More than this, the emotional complexity of the situation really begins to unravel. We are simultaneously sympathetic and horrified by the tribulations facing all the characters, including the increasingly incapacitated Joe.
Moral dilemmas vie with emotional needs and there seems to be no way out, save the unthinkable.
The genius of Nichols' writing is that he forces us to see the situation from a multitude of points of view, testing our responses to every challenge and effectively asking us to examine how we might fare, given similar circumstances.
A collection of disarmingly frank and honest performances by the six-strong cast draw us in and we ride the rollercoaster with them to the end. Jessica Bastick-Vines is quite extraordinary as the wheelchair bound daughter, unable to control the ever increasingly unpredictable and spasmodic behaviour of those upon whom she depends for her very life.
The remaining quintet all deliver characterisations that hold a mirror to some of our darkest thoughts. From Bri's cruel jokes to Pam's almost obscene self obsession we see the extremes of their struggles to cope with reality. Grace and Freddie offer ever more absurd advice and Sheila, occasionally resorting to flights of fantasy, tries to get by on a dream of some miracle.
As long as the audience turn off their mobile phones there are extended passages in which the stillness is so intense a pin dropping daren't make a sound, while there are frequent opportunities to laugh out loud or even entertain a little audience participation - hands on your heads everyone?
Stephen Unwin's assured direction is informed by his personal experience of caring for a severely disabled child, as was Peter Nichols when he penned the work almost half a century ago.
Times and attitudes may change but the basic truths remain the same, and this new production comes across the broken fourth wall as freshly as though it were written yesterday.
A Day in the Death of Joe Egg runs at Liverpool Playhouse until 27th April, after which it transfers to the Rose Theatre Kingston.
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| Marjorie Yates, Ralf Little, Owen Oakeshott, Sally Tatum Rebecca Johnson, Jessica Bastick Vines Photo © Liverpool Echo, Andy Teebay |
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