Writer: Rob Ward
Director: Clive Judd
Sometimes it’s nice to be reminded that comedy and tragedy are so deeply, and closely, related.
The story here is, undoubtedly, quite a heavy one. Dom, our hero, is a young gay man isolated in a small town and dealing with panic attacks, loneliness, difficult and abusive relationships all around him and more. But god, it’s funny. Much comedy is derived from Dom’s observations about what “the gays” do and say in the cities and on Instagram. Keeping up with “them” is an obsession, and this, as well as his clear lack of dating and flirting nous, feels like a smart way of illustrating his disconnection from the community.
A steam-train enthusiast, he catches the eye of his local MP, Peter, when he attends a surgery to ask for help in preventing the closure of the town’s station. From the start, the MP takes more than a friendly interest in the young man, offering him a paid internship and a closeness he’s been painfully missing. Sadly, inevitably, we the audience see the red flags of the MP’s sleaze and slyness flashing up ahead before Dom recognises it. We see the mechanics of a power imbalance and an unsafe situation for the impressionable young lad.
Dom captures his conflicted feelings and the problematic nature of the relationship in three words when considering a reluctant sexual encounter. It’s tragic to hear “I owe him” in this context. Writer Rob Ward introduces complexity and richness to this dynamic, however, challenging us to look into the story as one of shades rather than clear distinctions. A trip to the city with Peter ends nastily, but Dom’s fetish club night awakening is sweet, almost making his toilet cubicle tryst seem romantic.
At 75 minutes, Ward packs a lot in though it’s a little uneven in structure. In the first third of the piece, we get a few tangents to segments filled with impressions and character skits that just labour the point when his characters are well enough drawn from the outset. Ward gets more direct after the opening third, weaving a dense story about this unsavoury dynamic and adding strong threads of damage handed down from one generation to the next and the thrill of a potential new and honest relationship. Under it all is the impact of drug abuse. Aunt Mandy is a coy way of referring to the MDMA pills everyone is taking. It implies cosiness and a positive relationship but Ward’s storytelling highlights the difficulties a reliance and overindulgence in “Aunty Mandy” can bring.
As the focus of this one-person production, Ward as performer is a charming presence on stage. Through him, Dom is funny, vulnerable and sweet. The story is greatly added to by the sound and lighting design (Iain Armstrong and Will Monks respectively). The three elements come together best as we’re treated to a rare theatrical sighting – a drug scene that moves the narrative on, is not gratuitous and goes on only slightly too long.
The play takes us on a well-planned emotional path – it feels like we’re in safe hands with writing like this. It leaves the biggest emotional hit to the end. We leave the room wondering if all Dom’s weighty experience is in vain, our hearts breaking for the nice young guy in a terrible situation.
Runs until 4 June 2023
