Abigail’s Party is one of the most iconic 20th century British plays. A a suburban situation comedy of manners, it satirises the aspirations and tastes of the new middle class that emerged in Britain in the 1970s. This new production, though still set in the ’70s, is relocated to the place where it is performed: Manchester; a city rapidly gentrifying as it certifies its standing as “the capital of the North”. Thus, Mike Leigh’s ’70s understanding of class – though itself still pertinent – is made more relevant, relatable, and rip-roaringly hilarious.
Whilst those unfamiliar with the play might expect the play to be about the titular party, it’s a deliberate misnomer, for we never actually attend said party, and Abigail is only ever referred to, never seen. Instead, the play is about Beverly’s party, which is being held over the road from, and in relation to, Abigail’s party. Beverly Moss (Kym Marsh), with her husband Laurence (Graeme Hawley), hosts a gathering for her new neighbours, Tony and Angela Cooper (Kyle Rowe and Yasmin Taheri), and invites over Susan “Sue” Lawson, the mother of Abigail – and aspires to impress her.
Beverley (a beautician turned housewife), Tony (a computer operator) and Angela (a nurse), all speak with Manchester accents; Tony is noticeably working class, both in accent and manner. Beverley is ostensibly middle class but her accent, and the odd comment (e.g. putting the wine in the fridge), give her away (as does her determination to present herself as middle class). Laurence, a real estate agent, is more non-descript and less regional, reflecting his education. Sue (a housewife and single mother), meanwhile, speaks RP (relocating the play to Manchester makes Sue seem even posher). Vocal coach Emma Woodvine has coached the actors well.
Sue, being the ex-wife of an architect and living in one of the older houses on the street, represents the middle class. She brings a bottle of wine, and has not yet eaten, indicating that she is expecting dinner, as opposed to an extended evening of drinks. The others have already had their “tea”. Beverly and Laurence represent the aspirational lower middle class, whilst Tony and Angela, who are new to the nice area, are lower middle class (some might say working class).
Despite their similar background, Laurence actively differentiates himself from Tony by highlighting their cultural differences and condescending him (sometimes for Sue’s benefit). For example, Laurence shows off a leather-bound collected works of Dickens to an uninterested Sue (which are clearly unread), after pointedly asking Tony if he reads, insinuating that he does not. Tony has no desire to fit in with the middle class, even though he moved into a noticeably middle class area, suggesting that he wants better for himself and his family. Angela seems in awe of Beverly’s faux posh lifestyle. Sue, whilst ostensibly a bit of a snob, tells Laurence that she has no issue with the changing demographics of the area, whilst he does. It now seems that Sue does not look down at the others because of their class but, rather, their crass.
Kym Marsh chews up the scenery and leaves no crumbs as the insufferable Beverly Moss. She plays the role for laughs – and, boy, do the audience laugh. Director Natalie Abrahami allows us to see inside the bathroom; it is there where Beverly’s mask slips. Towards the end of the play, we also see beyond Angela’s (Yasmin Taheri) forced positivity and optimism, as both of the men become increasingly worked up and hot-headed.
Whilst first we sympathise with Laurence, who is continually undermined by his overbearing wife, Graeme Hawley does an excellent job at ramping up his discomfort and frustration in the second act. Kyle Rowe adds complexity and sympathy to Tony, who runs the risk of being portrayed dull and two-dimensional. His taciturn Northern accent and working-class bluntness add to the character.
Locating this play in the round heightens the tension, for there is literally nowhere to hide. The play is performed on a squared platform that sits on a revolve. The platform is enclosed with an open metal frame, like the walls have been broken down. The audience, then, are not just flies on the wall; we are part of the action, confronted with our own class insecurities and voyeuristic tendencies as we scoff and laugh at the characters’ mishaps and downfalls. By the end, it’s all quite awkward and uncomfortable.
The revolve is used sparingly and successfully. On at least two occasions, it spins slowly as the tension increases, before turning into a theme park ride when the party reaches its boiling point.
Movement (Anna Morrissey – also Intimacy Director) is an important part of this production, even though the play is an example of realism. This production opens with Kym Marsh, cloaked in coloured light, dancing sensually to Donna Summer’s ‘Love to Love You Baby’ (I think it was a cover – perhaps the rights to the original were too expensive). It’s sudden and powerful, like we have been sucked into a portal or vortex (heightened by the theatre’s spaceship design), as we travel back in time. It also seems to symbolise the fantasyland that Beverly lives in. Indeed, her clueless husband quickly brings the disco experience to an end.
Jai Morjaria’s lighting is warm and homely but also atmospheric. It is used, at times, to heighten the intensity. Peter Butler’s set design is some of the most gorgeous I have ever seen at the Royal Exchange. The attention to detail is commendable. It screams “”nouveau riche” and “upper lower middle class!” Melanie Wilson’s sound design (associate sound design comes from Marie Zschommler) is excellent; it really does sound like a loud teenage party was happening next door (or outside of the Royal Exchange’s auditorium).
There was a missed opportunity in not using smells, other than the ghastly smelling fake cigarettes. Beverly reeks of Estée Lauder Youth Dew; the designers could have recreated that smell or made the room stink of overpriced room mist or incense that only the wannabe-rich would buy.
Abigail’s Party has stood the test of time because it remains relevant, and the comedy has aged very well. This beautifully designed production is a sensuous experience that forces the audience to look inwards at ourselves.
Abigail’s Party runs at the Royal Exchange Theatre until May 24.
Photo: Johann Persson
JADAR 