Stags & Hens by Willy Russell
Baron’s Court Theatre, December 1999

Now I don’t like to moan (much) and am a great believer in Method Acting – which is to say I can’t wait to be cast as a drug-dependent alcoholic sex-maniac – but to find most of the cast in the bar pre-show “getting into character” spoiled a little of the magic of theatre for me.

Anyway, on with the show. As we enter the theatre we find ourselves in a most convincing lavatory with a pink cubicle for the girls and soft blue for the boys. The audience are on three sides – very much like Shakespeare’s Globe but without the oranges.

One of the stage crew had to come and fiddle with the non-functioning mirror ball but it wouldn’t start, so then the show started: Bang, crash, wallop and a gaggle of drunken scouse girlies arrived shouting so as to be heard over the noise of stiletto heels on stone floor. They were out on a hen-night and to have fun although the sulky bride-to-be had locked herself in the cubicle. Safra Martin-Ross as her mate Maureen was marvellously morose and as limp as an old lettuce leaf, her slightly too big party dress adding the final touch. Weren’t clothes in the 80s gaudy – Linda (the bride) was wearing fish-net tights, bed socks and platform-soled open-toed sandals: scary! Another mate, Bernie (Lizzie D’Arcy) was dressed to kill in spray-on leather – more front than Brighton and only missing a burlesque drum-roll whenever she moved.

Scene change. Bang, crash, wallop: on come the drunken scouse boys, shouting, and somebody vomiting – this was the groom-to-be and he was deposited in the blue cubicle while the others cleaned up the mess: chicken curry down someone’s leg inclusive of peas and carrots (as ever) and, as my companion whispered: “How vivid”.

The boys seemed to have a strict pecking-order and he who shouts loudest wins. Top that off with a comedy walk reminiscent of the Keystone Cops and you’re set for life apparently.

We switched from the Gents to the Ladies a few more times during the first half, allowing the characters to develop, drink more, and reveal that top dog in the Gents was actually Eddy, played with a powerful quietness and (thankfully) stillness by Mike Greener. We discovered that the girls were here to see the band, whose singer Linda had shagged some years previously; oh yes, we also discovered that both Stags and Hens were in the same bar – but we already knew that didn’t we (see moan at beginning).

The second half, with an added momentum, had the feeling of the home stretch. Linda committed the cardinal sin of not wanting to get married, admitting it, and therefore allowing Eddy to physically and verbally abuse her in the Ladies in front of everybody without interruption – very tribal. This - coming from Willy Russell, a scouse lad himself who trained as a hairdresser and so obviously has first-hand knowledge of both sides – we have to believe it.

Linda runs off with the singer to tour Norwich, Plymouth and West Wales where unhappy women in high heels and socks are accepted without question. Everyone else snogs, and ex-groom-to-be Dave is still on the big white phone to Hughie and Ralph.

I would like to mention here the unseen cast members. William Hutchings who with lights helped us believe the different locations of Gents, Ladies and Club; Lacho Laespada Sola who put together a fabulous compilation of 80s pop music; Directors Marissa Holden and Vanessa Read who brilliantly blocked on three sides without anybody feeling too left out; and the dancers – Eric, Paso and Fiona who by not appearing at all added an unscripted element of mystery and suspense.

All in all a great team effort and another successful season in K.D.C.’s 60th year – may we wish them every success in the next year, century, millennium.