Last Among The Long Grass

ADC Theatre, 11pm, Wednesday 8th – Saturday 11th May, £6/5

I left the ADC a very confused person. Very confused.

This piece of new writing from Freddie Crossley boded well at the beginning. The monotony of the opening scene was both well written and well delivered by the actors; the bold use of the empty stage at times was intriguing; the lengthy pauses, winding up to another aloof phrase of nothingness, managed to set the scene superbly. Moreover, the typewriter was nicely used to set out a literal tempo of monotony, punctuated by moments of placid calm. One scene in, I was excited for the rest of the play.

But nothing changed. The action (or lack thereof) bumbled along at this sedate tempo for, well, pretty much the rest of the play. And that bored me. An hour can seem a long time.

That is not to say that there weren’t good moments, both from the writer and the cast. Pete Skidmore gave a stellar performance as the absent-minded, barely ruffled George. Wonderfully understated, and with some fine piano-playing dispersed throughout the play, his increasing frustration was effectively portrayed given his lack of lines. The entrance of the locals gave a welcome boost to the mood, with their chattering successfully excluding both Anna (Kay Dent) and the audience in one fell swoop.

Student writing should be applauded for its bravery in trying to do something quite, quite new. But sometimes it just doesn’t work; sadly so, because Crossley shows great promise. Please try again. Seriously.

Unfortunately there were no shortage of flaws. Standard opening nights technical flaws involved radios, kettles and doors: all forgiveable stuff, but still detracting from the drama before us. However, there were bigger issues. For one, the play needed to be better defined from the off. It seemed to want to be a bit of everything, never quite meeting any of its objectives. Nothing was developed enough, and the characterization of Anna was at once unconvincing and off-putting. There was no way in which I could relate to the character, the fault of both writing and actress, who appeared to struggle with the role at points.

Things just dragged on. We were kept waiting so long for any sort of twist or development of plot that, by the time they eventually showed their faces, I had lost all interest. My companion asked at one point if we were actually supposed to be playing an elaborate drinking game, imbibing every time the characters ignored each other or said nothing of any consequence. Had it been the case, we would have been near-paralytic by the end of the evening, and stumbling on our way to Cindies.

The predictable twist was just that. Jokes fell flat. The breaking of the fourth wall seemed unnecessary, trying to be clever for no reason. And the cast need to decide whether or not they can see through the rear wall, which was used well to begin with.

It was all a great pity, because Crossley shows great promise in his writing: I applaud him for his bravery, and I implore him to try again soon. However, despite some strong performances from the cast, I have a feeling that this play (often resembling Ayckbourn without the humour) wouldn’t have elicited a greater response from a larger audience.