Happy as a Sandbag, Wellington Repertory Theatre
Newtown Community Centre Theatre, 21-26 April
I wasn’t really sure what to expect from this show – it is a revue of 1940s skits and songs depicting war-time life in England – but I was very pleasantly surprised. It pays homage to the fighting spirit that saw a nation through times of loss, hardship and deprivation. Through skits about topics ranging from the Home Guard to the ammunitions factories, warmth and humour are served up alongside nostalgia.
The basic choreography and simple directing (Ewen Coleman) focus attention on the stories. There are scenes of air-raid shelters full of courting couples and evacuees trying to wet the bed so that they will be sent home to their parents. There are American GIs who are ‘over-paid, over-sexed and over here’, and women working hard on the land.
Moments of humour are represented by radio programmes and stand-up comedians; Max Miller is played fabulously by David Adams in his flamboyant suit. David also plays Hitler, which is slightly unnerving – not least because he is Neville Chamberlain less than a minute later.
The make do and mend spirit is alive and well, with a recycling spirit that would do today’s eco-warriors proud. Rationing and creative cooking is gently mocked in an excellent skit performed by Felicity Cozens who manages to look truly ecstatic at the sight of an onion. Wilton pie, made without meat but vegetables such as carrots to aid night vision, is not such a thrill it would seem.
I’m not sure which of the men delivers the Churchill speeches, but they are intensely stirring. The words, ‘We shall never surrender’ or ‘This was their finest hour’ bring an instant lump to the throat, just as Hitler’s speech, projected onto a screen on stage, settles a chill on the heart. There are also tears to be shed at the vignettes of loss – when Julie Homan sings the ‘Ballad of the Soldier’s Wife’ shivers run down my spine. It’s not just the lyrics – that woman can sing! The dramatic piano solo of the Warsaw Concerto (played by Saar Cohen-Ronen) is equally moving.
Originally the show was written for ten parts, but this larger cast of nineteen spreads the talent around. It is unfair to single out specific actors as the whole ensemble works well together. Susan Page, lighting operator, told me she felt a sense of camaraderie develop during the season. Despite the sadness and reticence, the shared emotion finds a voice in the 1940s sing-a-long. The music hall favourites are sung with brio (You are my Sunshine; Knees up Mother Brown; Roll out the Barrel) and it’s a delight to see the audience members join in.
The patriotic numbers are belted out without a hint of ridicule or derision. It is generally unacceptable these days in this country to be proud to be English, but hearing those songs (There’ll always be an England, Rule Britannia, Land of Hope and Glory, The White Cliffs of Dover) made me feel exactly that.
I’m grateful to Wellington Repertory for presenting this show without sneering irony. I’m grateful to the men and women who suffered so much for future generations to enjoy their hard-won freedom. And I’m grateful for being given the opportunity to remember with respect.
Bless ‘em all
Newtown Community Centre Theatre, 21-26 April
I wasn’t really sure what to expect from this show – it is a revue of 1940s skits and songs depicting war-time life in England – but I was very pleasantly surprised. It pays homage to the fighting spirit that saw a nation through times of loss, hardship and deprivation. Through skits about topics ranging from the Home Guard to the ammunitions factories, warmth and humour are served up alongside nostalgia.
The basic choreography and simple directing (Ewen Coleman) focus attention on the stories. There are scenes of air-raid shelters full of courting couples and evacuees trying to wet the bed so that they will be sent home to their parents. There are American GIs who are ‘over-paid, over-sexed and over here’, and women working hard on the land.
Moments of humour are represented by radio programmes and stand-up comedians; Max Miller is played fabulously by David Adams in his flamboyant suit. David also plays Hitler, which is slightly unnerving – not least because he is Neville Chamberlain less than a minute later.
The make do and mend spirit is alive and well, with a recycling spirit that would do today’s eco-warriors proud. Rationing and creative cooking is gently mocked in an excellent skit performed by Felicity Cozens who manages to look truly ecstatic at the sight of an onion. Wilton pie, made without meat but vegetables such as carrots to aid night vision, is not such a thrill it would seem.
I’m not sure which of the men delivers the Churchill speeches, but they are intensely stirring. The words, ‘We shall never surrender’ or ‘This was their finest hour’ bring an instant lump to the throat, just as Hitler’s speech, projected onto a screen on stage, settles a chill on the heart. There are also tears to be shed at the vignettes of loss – when Julie Homan sings the ‘Ballad of the Soldier’s Wife’ shivers run down my spine. It’s not just the lyrics – that woman can sing! The dramatic piano solo of the Warsaw Concerto (played by Saar Cohen-Ronen) is equally moving.
Originally the show was written for ten parts, but this larger cast of nineteen spreads the talent around. It is unfair to single out specific actors as the whole ensemble works well together. Susan Page, lighting operator, told me she felt a sense of camaraderie develop during the season. Despite the sadness and reticence, the shared emotion finds a voice in the 1940s sing-a-long. The music hall favourites are sung with brio (You are my Sunshine; Knees up Mother Brown; Roll out the Barrel) and it’s a delight to see the audience members join in.
The patriotic numbers are belted out without a hint of ridicule or derision. It is generally unacceptable these days in this country to be proud to be English, but hearing those songs (There’ll always be an England, Rule Britannia, Land of Hope and Glory, The White Cliffs of Dover) made me feel exactly that.
I’m grateful to Wellington Repertory for presenting this show without sneering irony. I’m grateful to the men and women who suffered so much for future generations to enjoy their hard-won freedom. And I’m grateful for being given the opportunity to remember with respect.Bless ‘em all
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