DDF Assembly Rooms programme review
‘I reckon DDF is in safe hands for another fifty years.’
Durham Drama Festival’s 50th Anniversary kicked off with a roller-coaster ride at the Sir Thomas Allen Assembly Rooms Theatre this Wednesday, with a trio of student-written productions that were marvellous to watch, each in their own way.
The Assembly Rooms Programme wasted no time in immersing the audience in the dream-like world of Believers, beautifully written (and stage managed) by Carrie Cheung. Believers follows the life and legacy of cryptozoologist, Rosamund Saint-Frances (Grace Heron), as she instructs her loved ones to destroy all her research, six months after her death.
Special mention must go to the sound and lighting in this production (with lighting by Lucy Smith and sound by Kiera Bourgeois), which perfectly captures the dreamy, hazy, nostalgia of the small island on which Believers is set, in a mode reminiscent of a children’s book, or a game of Stardew Valley. Lighting changes encapsulate intimate moments and changes across space and time like insects in resin, and the masterful use of life-size puppets, performed with equal measures of humour and guile by the cast, makes this production a feast for the eyes and ears.
Under the excellent direction of Felicity Rickard and Charlotte Walton, assisted by Rose Ormond, the plot follows Rosamund’s sceptical daughter, Antoinette (Nell Hickson) as she returns to the island following her mother’s death. Hickson is captivating to watch, delivering a powerful portrayal of a woman in conflict over her relationship with her mother. Antoinette’s descriptions of her childhood are moving and evocative, perfectly capturing this complex relationship, for which Hickson should certainly receive her flowers. Antoinette’s counterpart, Rene, is played faultlessly by Phoebe Murray, who perfectly embodies the awkward and charming lawyer, and conjures the ultimate match for Antoinette. The scenes shared between Hickson and Murray crackle with a chemistry that is both naïve and heartwarming.
The complexity of the play’s narrator and absent protagonist is mastered by Grace Heron, who perfectly captures Rosamund’s calming presence on stage, bright-eyed and hopeful from the opening monologue. All the while, Heron’s captivating portrayal blurs the lines between optimism and illusion in her portrayal of a cryptozoologist with her head perhaps more in the clouds than reality. Iris Varla is mesmerising to watch as the enigmatic Darling, bringing an other-worldly quality to their performance as Rosamund’s serene and mysterious partner. Even in moments of silence, Varla is magnetic, perfectly capturing Darling’s physicality in a manner more akin to gliding than walking.
Count the number of times I use the word charming in this review if you like, but it truly is just that. Even more so are Elizabeth Sykes and Alfie Nawaid as Cole and Jesse, respectively, who infuse their scenes with perfect comedic timing. The pair bounce off each other with an effortless chemistry, so authentic to the love shared between young friends. Particularly memorable is the use of field notes in flashback scenes, and Sykes and Nawaid must be commended on switching so believably between past and present.
The chemistry between performers really makes this show, and is masterfully and delicately handled by Rickard and Walton, who infused each tender moment with a sense of nostalgia and child-like wonder that was truly delightful to witness. One thing’s for sure, you’ll enter the first interval with a full heart; this show really is the magic that it talks about.
Following Believers, the tone changed with the powerful and impactful Jordan is Not Present, by Iqra Khadiza. This story follows mum, Amina (Pearl D’Souza), older sister Rabia (Thea Steadman Jones), and teacher Ms. Shay (Paloma Hoyos), as they navigate the local authorities to get the correct care provisions for Jordan, a little boy with high needs autism who is exhibiting increasingly concerning behaviour. Immediately, the writing of this difficult, yet crucial, narrative must be commended. Jordan is Not Present is a brutal window into the harsh realities of the barriers faced by caregivers for young people on the spectrum. The play’s opening scene is haunted by the line “just try harder”, something so often heard by those seeking care for a loved one with additional needs. The harsh truth of the difficulties of caregivers hits the audience with full force. Without a doubt, Khadiza is a true talent, who has shed light on a narrative that simply is not represented often enough, in a way that is both incredibly accurate, and heartbreaking.
This magnificent script is masterfully illuminated by the play’s performers, whose increasing desperation injects the show with a sense of panic that sets the audience on edge and keeps them there for the duration of the performance. Pearl D’Souza is stellar as Amina, a single mother navigating the correct support for her son. Amina’s experience sheds light on the three-fold ways in which she is not being taken seriously, as a carer for a young person on the spectrum, as a woman (and a single mother), and as an immigrant. The casual racism from others that punctuates some of the show’s most tense moments hangs in the air like a bad smell and is hard to shake as an audience. D’Souza is totally perfect; as the audience we feel her exhaustion, her despair, and her fear in every line, which makes for a performance that is almost hard to watch in how moving it is. Equally captivating is Thea Stedman Jones as older sister, Rabia, whose incredible use of physicality flawlessly embodies the responsibility taken on by siblings of disabled children. Her scene with “teacher” highlights the frustrations of someone with a lifetime of experience in caring for her brother, and her portrayal is truly unforgettable.
Paloma Hoyos is incredible as Ms. Shay, Jordan’s teacher, a woman whose work causes her chronic pain and serious illness. Hoyos is a joy to watch as the personable and comforting Jame Shay, and yet her, her portrayal of Shay’s deteriorating condition is equally heartbreaking and totally convincing, in a manner that draws your eye to her in every scene. Another standout of this production was the multi-rolers, played beautifully by Laurie Stephen Davidson, and Molly Cowell. Davidson is deeply unsettling as the smarmy and smiling “Host” that opens the play, in a unique game show format that is both innovative and effective in showing how the experiences of caregivers for autistic children are trivialised. Equally haunting was Davidson’s portrayal of the play’s antagonist, the cruel and indifferent Edward Stuarts, of the local authority. His condescension and lack of care permeated every scene, and he made for a truly loathsome villain; Davidson’s ability to transition between roles with ease was remarkable. Perhaps the most powerful moment of the production, however, is the final monologue, delivered by Molly Cowell with a truly unforgettable performance. Cowell approaches the role with such tenderness and consideration, and her delivery of this powerful final speech is faultless, though no less easy to watch. Her role as Sarah, Amina’s best friend, is equally moving, shedding light on the importance of support networks for carers and those in their care. Furthermore, Cowell’s chemistry with D’souza could convince you of a lifelong friendship between the pair.
The fantastic direction of Matthias Bacon and Iqra Khadiza, assisted by Jiyan Sheppard, must be commended for such an outstanding production. Jordan is Not Present will stay with me for a very long time – it is a play that says, “don’t look away – this is real life”.
The night finished on an entirely different note (literally) with Secret Admirers, by Harry Threapleton and Luke Mallon. Described as “Much Ado About Nothing meets espionage and bureaucracy”, Secret Admirers follows two FBI agents, created to oversee the lives of ordinary people, as they decide to take matters into their own match-making hands, but end up falling for each other in the process.
Kian Standbridge is marvellous as Agent 42, an agent who follows the rules, but is disillusioned with his work. Standbridge is delightful; imagine the suave, American version of Johnny English – not quite Bond, still hapless and slightly awkward, despite the cocky persona. Standbridge’s chemistry with Emma Henderson is exciting to witness, as Henderson captures perfectly the reckless and “rockstar” nature of Sky, 42’s match-making partner in crime. The pair’s chemistry comes to life in their duets, where strong voices blend perfectly, complimenting each other in a manner that demonstrates perfectly their compatibility.
42 and Sky’s subjects, Adam and Lucy, are played with equal charm by Edward Clark and Niamh Williams, who are, frankly, tooth-achingly sweet as the clumsy and simply “real-life” couple, guided by their agents to find each other. Clark is wonderful as the awkward and lovable Adam, an underdog that the audience can’t help but root for, despite being useless in love. His counterpart, Lucy, is perfectly matched by Williams, whose beautiful soprano voice perfectly compliments her girl-next-door character. The show would not be complete, of course, without special mention to the ensemble (Anna Pile and Alice Boissonnas), who bring humour and heart to every scene they feature in, including killer vocals and wonderful choreography (by Poppy Harvey Wood) – and, of course, the boat scene would be nothing without them! The songs are superb and super catchy, with the title number a personal favourite. But they are so much more than just musical decoration; the songs in Secret Admirers further the plot, punctuated by heart-warming montages with seamless transitions, and serve to foster the growing affection between our four protagonists. I found myself smiling from ear-to-ear at the sweet moments shared between the couples, they genuinely were so lovable.
Expertly directed by Moritz Alfridi, and assisted by Joanna Bergmann, Secret Admirers is a musical that knows exactly what it is and leans into that. It’s high-camp, kitsch, cute, and honestly hilarious. However, it also asks questions about free will, work culture, and the nature of “compatibility”, after all, “what is life without freedom, without love?”. Overall, this super-sweet and campy musical comedy made for the perfect end to a wonderful night of theatre.
If this is the standard of student-written theatre, I reckon DDF is in safe hands for another fifty years.
By Bea Pescott-Khan.