Writer: Nick Payne
Director: Conor McCrory
Art about the World Wars always tends to grapple with the same dilemma: how to represent the breadth of these atrocities – their fundamental scale – in a single work of art. To do so, it would have to somehow capture the universality of war, and its uncompromising effect on men, women and children in all walks of life. And so, to find a way around this dilemma, most writers settle on the same solution: rather than writing an all-encompassing epic, they settle for the idiosyncratic. They choose to focus on a small, individualistic story about a singular experience of the war.
One Day When We Were Young is no different: it tells the story of two young lovers (Leonard and Violet) whose lives are about to be torn apart by Leonard’s conscription, and their subsequent reunion later down the line. It’s a well-tested trope, and a lesser team might have allowed this important story to fade into the ranks of the thousands of similar ‘war fiction’ narratives.
But in the hands of Laura Mugford (Violet), and Joseph Ryan-Hughes (Leonard), Nick Payne’s tragedy of the common man brings a new dimension to war drama, yet again reminding us of the capability of war to tear apart the peacefully banal lives of individual families, soldiers and lovers. It’s a tale which successfully achieves what most war pieces set out to do: to remind us of the human cost of war.
The narrative, as directed by Connor McCrory, moves through three-time sequences: pre-Leonard’s departure to war, the immediate aftermath of the war, and finally a period many years later, when Leonard and Violet reunite in their twilight years. Payne cleverly chooses to focus less on war itself, and more on its long-term after-effects, thereby bringing a new dimension to an oversaturated genre and allowing him to showcase the after-shocks of WWII, and its continuing effects on individuals well into the 21st century. Mugford and Ryan-Hughes aptly embody Leonard and Violet, convincingly selling both the youthful excitement of a young couple spending an anxious first night together, and the sweet tranquillity of an elderly couple re-uniting many years later to reminisce about what might have been.
Ryan-Hughes’s performance is sensitive and deeply emotional and his presentation of Leonard is well-considered and well-practiced. In the intimate space of Baron’s Court Theatre, it is clear to see how carefully Ryan-Hughes forms his facial expressions, quickly alternating between anxiety, awkwardness, confusion and surprise. For the first of the three acts, there is a slight tendency to over-act, leaning into the performance of a young and enthusiastic Leonard with perhaps too much excitement. But this is more than accounted for by Ryan-Hughes’s portrayal of the elderly Leonard: this enactment is outstanding, considering everything from the small mannerisms of an old man, to his voice and awkward peculiarities.
Mugford’s performance as Violet is similarly well-considered: she brings subtle compassion to the role of Violet across both her young and elderly phases. More importantly, she works extremely effectively as a counterpart to Ryan-Hughes’s Leonard, countering his excitement with calmness, his anxiety with kindness, and his awkwardness with sensibility. Tightly controlled expressions only add to her persuasiveness, allowing her to build and articulate a character.
The strengths of these two actors (particularly in their depictions of their elderly selves) allow for an emotional and personal production, whose intimacy is only amplified by a carefully designed set in the small and dimly lit venue of Baron’s Court Theatre. A small stage surrounded by three rows of seats means that there is no distance: everything from the props to the minutiae of expressions is picked up on by the audience, meaning there is no room for error.
Fortunately, this is a slick and polished performance: an extended tragedy of two common people, set at a time when loss and tragedy were rife and individual narratives were easily subsumed into the loss felt by whole countries. It’s punctuated by comic moments, moments of touching awkwardness and moral dilemmas: in short, it’s a deeply humanising production.
Runs until 3 June 2023
