Talking Heads

Community Venue Tour, Seacroft

CLOSING the West Yorkshire Playhouse's Alan Bennett season, Talking Heads stopped in Seacroft where Leo Owen caught the show on its final leg of its community venues tour before returning to its central Leeds home

In a tucked away community hall the taxi struggled to find, director James Brining, a simple set and an accomplished cast of three bring Bennett's famous BBC monologues to life. A bed of dated-looking print accompanied by a chair of clashing equally faded pattern, a coat stand, small wooden table/chair and plain beige board backdrop with an in-built cupboard create living spaces for characters, made distinct by the removal and addition of personalised touches.

First up is Christopher Chilton as Graham in A Chip In The Sugar walking on

stage wearing sandals with socks and a tank top, shirt and slacks. As he talks, he sorts the washing, folding petticoats and jumpers while recalling trips to Filey, York and Bolton Abbey. It's clear Graham is a mummy's boy and used to his comfortable routine, cruelly broken by the arrival of one of his 72 year-old mother's old flames, Mr Frank Turnbull. Graham's narration of the rekindling of this relationship is tinged with humorous jealousy and occasionally sinister references to a surveillance car parked outside the house.

Chilton softens his voice for “mother” and pumps the volume for Turnbull, using the space to change the visual focus as he sits at the table, strolls around looking agitated and grabs a dressing gown to signify nightfall. He gets laughs aplenty, playing on the idea of the awkwardness of witnessing unshared private jokes, revealing his mother's comical idiosyncrasies (“[Mum] prefers using [disabled toilets] because you get more elbow room") and introducing members of his support group like 65 year-old Leonard who is partial to exposing himself. Chilton's performance smoothly moves from comic to moving, visibly near to tears of anger at times while Bennett's careful structure complements his performance, neatly resolving Graham's situation to alter the mood again.

As Susan in Bed Among The Lentils, Cate Hamer, is equally sympathetic, entertaining us with her unexpectedly bitter commentary on life as an unbelieving vicar's wife. Solemn music and the chinks of carrier bagged bottles early on introduce the idea of alcoholism in a stripped down stage merely comprised of the wooden table/chair.

Some of Bennett's finest Talking Heads lines are written for Susan as she moans about Geoffrey's adoring parishioners ("You think squash is a competitive activity, try flower arranging") or considers the demands of being the wife of a man of God ("A barrister's wife doesn't have to go to court..."). Unlike A Chip In The Sugar, Susan's story ends in a typically dark manner, leaving her us to ponder her final bleak thoughts: "That's the thing nobody says about God. He has no taste at all."

The evening's final “Talking Head” changes the mood to leave the audience feeling more optimistic again after Vanessa Rosenthal brings Irene Ruddock to life in A Lady of Letters. There's a lace doily on the table, new clothes hang on the stand and the chair is centre stage as Irene narrates her daily letter-writing routine, revealing her loneliness and isolation when describing a funeral as an “outing”. She fears child abuse in the house opposite and writes complaining about dog excrement outside Buckingham Palace but one letter too far sees her situation change and her ironically exclaiming with new found enthusiasm: "This is the first taste of freedom I've had in years".

Lights dimming and music playing depicts the passing of time during each monologue but they're linked by much more than set. lights and sound. All hint at or directly underline racial and multi-cultural tensions; sexual repressions and mental health issues. Characters experience heartache, loneliness, boredom and disappointment but although all pitiful individuals, Bennett and cast make each performance a bittersweet experience full of the highs and lows of believable well-rounded personalities.

We're left with some amusing contemplations, such as “Did Jesus smirk?” but what is most interesting is what Bennett chooses to edit out. Talking Heads may have been first-performed between 1988-1998 and tonight's audience are predominantly white haired but its characters have a universal appeal in their humanity that doesn't date. Bennett's clever ability to alter mood through the slightest hint also makes each monologue like a mini-detective novel, leaving us to attempt to unravel the truth.

by Leo Owen