(4 / 5)

‘To begin at the beginning’ is a very apt quote from Under Milk Wood, for this groundbreaking first production from the Craidd Collaboration. A cohort of organisations; Pontio, Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama, Sherman Theatre, Theatr Clwyd and Torch Theatre, coming together with the aim of putting ‘access and inclusion at the core of theatre in Wales.’

Without a doubt, this is easily one of the most accessible and inclusive pieces of theatre I have ever witnessed, which is proven by the vast variety of the audience members around me as I take my seat. The play has been reinterpreted anew, with almost every line interpreted into BSL and every line appearing on the screen behind the performers. But it is not in any way stilted or apparent that you are watching an ‘inclusive’ piece, so well is the inclusion interwoven into the production. The opening sequence of words and BSL is so beautiful and moving. The words appearing on the screen are not just standard type, they live and move as much as the words do; enlarged text when there is emphasis or shouting, sometimes to very comedic effect, words twinkling and disappearing, words weaving across the screen as magical and thought provoking as the way they are delivered verbally. Huge credit must be given to everyone involved in this especially BSL director, Adam Bassett, but also the whole production team who breathed life into this truly stunning piece of diverse and representative piece of theatre.

The strange, colourful, delightfully naughty insight into Thomas’ imagination is brought to life by an incredibly talented ensemble of actors both able bodied and disabled. They all multi role with deftness and speed, at the drop of a hat (quite literally in some cases!), a definite Brechtian feel to the piece as their different characters appear and disappear with the change of a costume, sometimes even mid scene. It would be unfair of me to call any one of them out individually, as they all bring something truly unique to the piece, as unique as the individuals who tumbled from Dylan Thomas’ mind into Llareggub.

The set design is truly beautiful and captures the very essence of the town, houses tumbling together in the rag tag manner of the terraced houses of the Welsh Valleys. So important are the houses to their inhabitants, so much a part of who they are, that they form seats, steps, tables, lidded boxes and even appear on the heads of Mog Edwards and Myfanwy Price as they confess their love to one another. The set is immersed in the performance; clambered over, sat upon, danced amongst. I was enamoured with it all and kudos to all involved in this truly dreamlike production; director, Kate Wasserberg, set and costume designer, Hayley Grindle, AD and Dramaturg, Katie Elin-Scott, Movement Director, Laura Meaton and the many other individuals who have brought this truly leaping to life. A special mention must also be made to the Composer, Oliver Vibrans and Musical Director, Lynwen Haf Roberts for the lovely, haunting melodies they have brought to the piece.

What is truly magical about this piece and the penmanship of Thomas is the mirror that it holds up to our own humanity. Especially here, with joyous inclusivity and diversity. We are, like the inhabitants of Llareggub, ‘not wholly bad or good, who live our lives under Milk Wood,’ and it is this that makes the production one that will stay with me for a long time. Its humanity is beautiful in its flaws and the rapturous applause along with the silent, but enthusiastic applause of the deaf members of the audience really shows that this production has something for us all.

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(4 / 5)

First performed in America in 1953, and broadcast posthumously as a radio play by the BBC in 1954, Under Milk Wood has had many adaptations for the stage. This is the first time that accessibility has been integral to the performance and design.

The production is part of Craidd, a collaboration between five Welsh organisations working to improve mainstream representation of Deaf and disabled people both on and off stage across Wales. This staging uses integrated British Sign Language (BSL) and captioning.

This means that accessibility is literally centre stage at many times and fully incorporated into the staging. BSL trained actors are key to the delivery. use is made of video and back projections to magnify some of the action on the stage. Text is not standard surtitles but rather animated and colourful, shifting and dissolving – enhancing the experience for most in the audience.

As a seeing and hearing member of the audience it’s at times difficult to know where to focus the attention. This is a recognition of how compelling the different aspects of the production are – the imaginative captioning text which is difficult to keep your eyes off but also wishing to constantly refocus on the considerable skills of the actors. You get better at that as the play progresses. This type of accessible theatre, built into its design at the outset, can be potentially engaging for all members of the audience.

It’s an excellent ensemble piece (with each actor playing multiple roles), fast-paced and funny, musical and magical with a dizzying array of characters. This is not a conventional play in terms of plot or narrative drive. An omniscient narrator guides us through the lives and loves of the villagers and this along with interconnected vignettes advances the action. Scene settings, of which there are many, are suggested by precise lighting and sound design along with creative props. The pace of constant change makes this demanding stagecraft but it feels effortless.

Hayley Grindle’s set and lighting are stand out. The cottages imagined as oversize doll’s houses, sometimes ordered, other times in disarray, depending on the time of day, often providing a glorious warm glow to proceedings.

Kate Wasserberg has not shied away from the darker, at times uncomfortable, themes in the play, more prevalent in Part 2. ‘There’s a nasty lot lives here when you come to think.’ gets one of the bigger laughs of the evening. A lot more than mischief is hinted at in the lives of the community.

At the end we are full circle, another night is approaching. Something very like this will be happening tomorrow.

This staging captures and amplifies the play for voices – tender and poignant, funny and irreverent, lyrical and bawdy. Theatre Clwyd’s Under Milk Wood is a captivating imagining of Dylan Thomas’ masterpiece.

Andy Stroud

Credits

Creative: Hayley Grindle (Set and Costume Design), Katie Elin-Salt (Associate
Director & Dramaturg), Laura Meaton (Movement Director), Adam Bassett (BSL Director), Joshua Pharo & Sarah Readman (Co-Lighting, Video & Creative Caption Designers, Oliver Vibrans (Composer), Lynwen Haf Roberts (Musical Director), Liam Quinn (Sound Designer), Jacob Sparrow (Casting Director).

Production: Suzy Sommerville (Production Manager), Alec Reece (Stage Manager),

Music has time signatures lending themselves to jigs, waltzes and marches, folk songs and syncopated jazz tunes.  Music can be loud and soft and can move between loud and soft.  The banality of the disco sound is that the rhythm is unvaried and insistent;  the volume is always loud.  Tracks meld into each other and become indistinguishable.

So, whilst the idea of providing a story with a musical background is a fine in principle, using a disco backing has its drawbacks.  Apart from the repetitiveness, you have to shout to make yourself heard above it, which means less flexibility in your voice. That said, whilst I was getting a bit of a headache myself, I did notice other members of the audience were responding to the tracks positively. 

(The fact I dislike disco music didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate the skilful way the DJ – Onai – worked her turntables.  The show depended on her carefully synchronising the sound with the action going on in front of her desk.  She also had to act herself from time to time, changing her role from that of a visible technician to that of a member of the cast, becoming part of the small society who gave the main character her identity.)

I also noticed the audience laughing at the wisecracks that came in over the top of the background noise.  Personally, I don’t find the use of Very Rude Words funny.  I find swearing and the pulling of faces childish rather than witty but stand-up comedy is popular and it seems to require comics to be rude and crude.  Katie Payne’s monologue therefore appeals to a different demographic to that often seen at the theatre.  If utilising contemporary cultural material, like disco music and stand-up routines, pulls in a new crowd, this is reasonable.  I approve of it, even if I don’t like it myself.  There were over a hundred people in the audience at Theatr Clwyd on a Tuesday night, many of whom would not have been drawn by Shakespeare, Beckett or even Alan Ayckbourn.

Still, what Katie Payne – the author as well as the performer of ‘My Mixed Up Tape’ – was saying and energetically doing on stage didn’t interest me until her show changed from being a type of ultra physical stand-up routine and turned into a short play.  It became more serious. This shift coincided with a specific moment in the story she was telling.

The show starts with Psycho Phoebe thrown out of her cousin’s wedding by a ‘neckless’ bouncer.  As she is aggressive, destructive, potty-mouthed and has a huge chip on her shoulder, this seems justified.  The only mystery is why she would want to go back inside where she is not welcome.  She has quarrelled with the guests and despises most of them.  But she does want – or need – to go back in, and the play proper gets under way when she manages to sneak back under the arm of the bouncer. 

Now Katie Payne can show us Phoebe encountering and having to deal with – her cousin, her mother and father, her aunt, her ex-boyfriend and her ex-best friend and another, representative female guest.  What has basically been a long moan up to that point – another verbose complaint about life – becomes a three-dimensional reality.

Katie Payne herself is a stage dynamo, with the agility and the timing of a trained dancer.  She is full of ideas, gestures and postures and I liked those of her jokes that did not depend on obscenities.  She is also an excellent mimic.  This meant that, in between dancing about furiously and talking to the audience she can talk to herself in different voices and accents, establishing credible conversations with others who are not there.  This is clever.  It happens convincingly, and she didn’t appear to put a foot wrong for an hour and a quarter, despite the necessary speed of her delivery.  Phoebe’s story is not a complex one but reconstructing it in detail whilst sustaining the pace is no mean task.

When the show does become three-dimensional, building the agendas of an imaginary set of characters, it starts to have a lot more impact.  Up until the moment when Phoebe gets back in to rejoin the wedding crowd, I was wondering, why bother with this story?  Why use this level of theatrical skill and creativity to foreground someone so unpleasant?  However, the effort Katie Payne was putting in gradually started to achieve the result she was after.  Phoebe became more than just the sum of her parts.  We got to see behind her clown mask and find out who she really was behind her posturing.

Returning to hometown Pontypridd after vowing to shake its dust from her shoes was not much fun for Phoebe.  She was never going to give a rendition of The Green, Green, Grass of Home.  For her, Pontypridd is more like Philip Larkin’s provincial town, which he categorised as ‘intensely sad’.   But she has to revisit it to remind herself why she left it.  She has to formally break up with her best friend and her cousin and absorb some of her mother’s homespun, fridge magnet wisdom.  She needs to listen to the tape her aunt once made of her talking in public to remember herself as a little girl.  She has to endure the community’s (imagined) scorn at her failure to make much of herself in London.

So, despite my initial reluctance, I began to sympathise with a character like too many young people today who, deprived of ideals and opportunities, have neither the education nor the particular talent necessary to make a go of their lives but who still long for something, for anything more.  The fifties had James Dean, the original rebel without a cause, and the sixties had Mick Jagger, who couldn’t get no satisfaction.  The twenty twenties, then, have mixed up Phoebes, out on a limb, wanting something that Katie Payne knows cannot just be put into words.  The presentation of this unidentifiable but deep longing is what got her performance at Theatr Clwyd a standing ovation.

At Theatr Clwyd, the show was followed by a discussion with Katie Payne and Stef O’Driscoll, its director.  A good performance doesn’t need a follow-up but there was an interesting mention of ADHD in it.  Although Phoebe’s behaviour is extreme, the condition doesn’t crop up specifically in the play (unless I missed it).  Skirting the topic means the short story can focus on someone who has good, everyday reasons to be frustrated.  Introducing it would have meant considering Phoebe’s problems from a different perspective and changing its emphasis on the restrictions of small town life.

Simon Kensdale

‘Under Milk Wood’ is a challenge.  It’s tackled regularly in Wales because there are not many plays that focus forensically on everyday Welsh life and, as far as I know, none written poetically.  It is an extraordinary piece of writing, but this makes for a very unconventional play. Dylan Thomas sets the work somewhere that, on the face of it, like so many small towns, has nothing of apparent significance to offer the outside world – bugger all, in fact – but by the sheer pressure of his language transforms it into something remarkable and unforgettable. It’s as if he had followed Keats’ instruction to ‘load every rift with ore’ to the letter.

But that’s the problem.  We are not used to modern-day poetic drama.  Even if Llareggub (or Llaregyb – the production uses the town’s Welsh name) floats somewhere in its own particular mid-twentieth century time zone, the people of the town and their activities are the stuff of common or garden reality, not of fantasy or historical legend.  To hear their everyday conversations and monologues shot through with a welter of idiom, word play jingles, sly metaphors and over-the-top imagery, is quite an experience.  You have to listen carefully and take in what is being said to appreciate what is going on. 

Poetry enriches the moment.  It creates a charged atmosphere, and it builds tension via suggestions and reflections.  Poetic drama does not require much in the way of mystery and suspense, but it can deliver within some very tight rules.  ‘Under Milk Wood’ conforms to some of the classic restrictions.  Its action more or less happens in one place and is described and discussed by two narrators.  Everything takes place in the course of twenty-four hours, one Spring day.  But you have to really go at Thomas’ text to turn it into a play works for a contemporary theatre audience. 

Kate Wasserberg directing and Hayley Grindle designing adopt an approach which changes what Thomas wrote specifically for the radio into what looks like a kind of pop-up adult graphic novel, full of colour, surprise and ingenuity.  All the episodes of a soap are compressed here into a reality show.  The sweeping narration is delivered by all the members of the cast, meaning a variety of voices and accents take us into the heart of an average small community. 

The production is given considerable muscle by performing members of Craidd, a Welsh collective which includes deaf, disabled and neurodivergent artists.  Although there are only eleven of them, they create over forty characters.  These characters are necessarily only sketched in but they, in turn, evoke the diversity of a whole community.  Of course, this suggestive process is helped in this by names like Mrs Willy Nilly, Organ Morgan, Evans the Death, Gossamer Benyon, Nogood Boyo and Sinbad Sailors. 

The cast perform the interconnected sketches that build up the circumstances of these characters with energy and wit in an even collaboration, each briefly coming centre stage. No one single performer hogs the limelight because no single story line is given preference.  The only exception to this principle are the stand-out singers, whose solos in the second half add another dimension to the atmosphere.

There is no resolution to the various scenarios, no startling denouement to make a point, no deus ex machina.  We know Miss Myfanwy Price and Mr Mog Edwards will never consummate their affair.  Sinbad dotes on Gossamer Benyon, but she will never gobble him up. For all his plotting, Mr Pugh will never murder Mrs Pugh.  Cherry Owen will continue coming home drunk, as his wife loves him drunk or sober and Butcher Benyon will continue tormenting his sensitive wife who believes his little lies. Mrs Ogmore Pritchard, twice widowed, won’t have a gentleman in from Builth Wells, preferring instead to live with the ghosts of her former husbands.

The only conclusion to what goes on in Llareggub (or Llaregyb) is night falling yet again on a kind of melancholy in which Capt Cat’s Rosie Probert is dead – like Polly Garter’s Little Willie Wee, who took her on his knee.  In the dusk, the words ‘Thou Shalt Not’ speak from the wall while Lord Cut-Glass, in his kitchen full of time, listens to the voices of his sixty-six clocks, one for each year of his loony age.

Whilst there are frequent references throughout to social issues – ‘There’s a nasty lot live here when you come to think’ – and truisms ‘like Men are brutes on the quiet’ occur regularly, there’s no dramatic argument, no social or political message to get across other than,

We are not wholly bad or good

Who live our lives under Milk Wood

Dylan Thomas intended to paint an animated portrait of a place without ever judging it Theatr Clwyd’s production is faithful to his intentions in its own way.  I don’t know how many stars to give it but it’s well worth seeing.

Hi Elise, great to meet you! Can you start by telling our readers about your role at WJEC?

Absolutely! I have been Subject Adviser for Music and Drama since April 2023, but I have recently changed roles. I am now the Subject Officer for Drama at WJEC, and my role is to oversee the running of each of our GCSE and A Level qualifications in England and Wales.

Is Music and Drama something you were interested in from a young age? What led to this current role with the WJEC?

Yes, it was, I have always been involved in theatre in some form. I did Drama and Music at school and then went on to study Music & Musical Theatre at the University of Chichester. After that, I trained to teach as a secondary Drama/Music teacher; after several years teaching I decided to study a master’s in musical Theatre at the Royal Welsh College of Music & Drama and the move to Cardiff for my MA is what led me to WJEC.

Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama

For readers who might not know, what exactly does the WJEC do?

WJEC is the Welsh Joint Education Committee. As Wales’ largest awarding body, at WJEC we provide trusted bilingual qualifications, straight-forward specialist support, and reliable assessment to schools and colleges across the country. With more than 75 years’ experience, we are also amongst the leading providers in both England and Northern Ireland.

When it comes to Drama, how do you go about choosing which plays are selected for study — is there a selection process? Are certain plays more popular than others with teachers?

There is a process we must follow, and this process is informed by our regulators (Ofqual in England and Qualification Wales in Wales). Any update to the specification must be approved by the regulator and the suitability of texts are tested and questioned to ensure each text we choose is right for teachers and learners.

Do you see your work as part of supporting Welsh arts and culture, especially when it comes to studying Welsh writers and creatives?

Absolutely, as the largest exam board in Wales, supporting Welsh culture is at the heart of everything we do. We work hard to ensure that Welsh language, Welsh theatre, and Welsh creatives are represented through our specifications. We do this through running dedicated Welsh medium events, producing all our resources in English and Welsh, promoting Welsh playwrights and composers through our specifications, and ensuring we have representation from Welsh speakers in our examining teams, senior examiners, and question paper teams (to name but a few of the ways!)

Welsh Playwrights feature in the current WJEC Drama specification. Resting Restless by Bethan Marlow is one of the current WJEC, GCSE, Set Texts. Face to Face by Meic Povey and Lovesong by Abi Morgan are part of the AS/A Level Set Texts, how is the Welsh work chosen, are the writers or their Estates involved in anyway?

Our Principal Examiners work with the Subject Officer to choose a selection of texts suitable for examination, and we must seek permission from the writers to use their work.

What’s the part of your job you most enjoy, and why? My favourite parts of the job are working on resources for teachers and attending CPD events.

I love finding an area where teachers need support and creating something to help.

What do you wish more young people knew or understood about WJEC and the work you do?

I think it important to know that everyone working at WJEC, in each subject and each department is a real person; at the end of the phone, an email, working on question papers, marking candidates work is always a human! Also, the subject Officers and Subject Advisers are all teachers, so we have specialist knowledge and specific experience that informs each area of our roles.

Have any recent trends in Drama or Music (like digital theatre, new Welsh writing, rap or experimental music) influenced your thinking about future syllabuses?

Trends and advancements in theatre in Music is certainly something we are considering all the time. For example, in Music we ran a CPD event a couple of years ago that focussed on DJ, Rap, Sequencing and beatboxing as we have seen an increase in learners choosing these paths in their GCSE Music course and we want to ensure we are supporting teachers to facilitate that.

If you could pick one piece of advice for someone aged 18–30 wanting to pursue a creative career in Drama or Music, what would you say?

For creative careers, or ‘industry-based’ careers, my advice is to make your own work. It gives you a portfolio (especially when auditions or freelance work is…sparse!) you find out what you like and which areas you want to put energy into, and you never know who you’ll meet. It is, however, also important to remember there are countless careers that aren’t ‘industry based’ available to you too, where you are still working within your field and working collaboratively and creatively with your peers/colleagues.

Looking ahead — are there any exciting plans or changes at WJEC that you’re buzzing about?

We have just released a new GCSE Drama specification for schools in Wales which is very exciting!

(4 / 5)

From the very first line of dialogue in Theatr Clwyd’s Under Milk Wood, with its small houses set centre stage as if we, the audience, are giants looking in, it becomes clear that this adaptation of Dylan Thomas’ iconic play is a unique and vibrant celebration of the Welsh poet’s work- the richness of his words, filled with alliteration and rhythm, a testament to the author’s unparalleled mastery of language.

This is a play which resonates both locally and universally, drawing on themes of community, memory, and the intricacies of daily life. Directed with a clear sense of playfulness and passion, the performance takes the audience into the heart of the small town of Llareggub (read it backwards!), where ordinary lives are elevated to the extraordinary through the magic of language and movement, in varied forms.

In many ways, it’s a shame that Theatr Clwyd’s production of Under Milk Wood comes so soon after Welsh National Theatre’s Our Town– both plays pulling back the curtain on seemingly simple towns, offering an almost voyeuristic glimpse into its inhabitants’ lives. (With similar themes- love, life, death…) it’s difficult not to compare the two. That aside, what makes this production so very special is its utter inclusiveness- this performance is an experience- the likes which I have never experienced in the theatre before and for this alone it should be celebrated. The text, presented in both BSL (British Sign Language) and written format, ensures that the performance is accessible to a wider audience. However, as in regular ‘signed’ performances- we aren’t just witness to one interpreter stood aside. Every word is signed by the actors on stage, so it simply becomes part of the story, without us having to turn our heads and miss the action.

Creativity oozes from this production- not only in its direction from Kate Wasserberg but also in characterisation through the video captions-the use of projected text adds another layer of artistry. The fonts are meticulously chosen, with particular attention paid to the shifting of colours and effects. For example, during one section, the text takes on a crumbling effect as Rosie Probert goes ‘into the darkness’, and during a scene in which a mirror is portrayed, the projected text is also mirrored. Fantastic attention to detail which doesn’t go amiss.

Astute detail is also present in the production’s costume- conveying character and tone. The seaside elements in the wardrobe choices- the hats, bags, jackets- are both character-specific and thematically rich. From the vicar to the baker, the draper to the postman, the wardrobe subtly anchors each character in their respective roles while adding a touch of whimsy and coastal charm! The costumes also play a vital role in the play’s multiple characterisations. The cast tackle these with vigour, embodying a range of town inhabitants from the familiar (the Vicar, the Postman) to the more peculiar (the Drunkard, the Sailor). Each portrayal is a nuanced, often humorous, interpretation that offers glimpses of the town’s vibrant collective personality. It would be impossible to single out individual performers. It’s easy to see why Thomas’ play has remained a classic; its inhabitants feel both familiar and surreal and we can probably all see reflections of ourselves in each one!

The cast’s use of movement and expression enhances the comedic moments beautifully and humour is rife throughout the piece- in the subtle gestures and exaggerated physicalities, which make each character feel larger-than-life. In terms of movement, the production is completely captivating! The transition from clock to cow (and everything in between!) is seamless. The clock making frequent returns, time, of course, being a key theme throughout. Hayley Grindles set design captures this perfectly- the clock, a prominent fixture at the end of Act 1 and beginning of Act 2, is a potent symbol of this thematic progression- time, always ticking, never stopping.

Theatr Clwyd’s production of Under Milk Wood is a sensory feast- an immersive, funny, poignant, and thoroughly human exploration of life in a small Welsh town.

Under Milk Wood completes its run at Theatr Clwyd on Saturday April 4^th then goes on to the Torch Theatre, Milford Haven, the Sherman Theatre, Cardiff and finishes at Pontio, Bangor on May 23^rd.

Cast:

Adam Bassett- Jack Black, Cherry Owen, Dai Bread, Foxy

Sean Carlsen- Reverend Eli Jenkins, Butcher Beynon, Mr Ogmore, PC Atilla Rees

Jacob Coleman- Organ Morgan, Ocky Milkman, Willy Nilly, Nogood Boyo, Sinbad Sailors

Amy Conachan- Gossamer Beynon, Mrs Pugh, Mrs Cherry Owen, Mrs Dai Bread 1

Mirain Fflur- Mae Rose Cottage, Rosie Probert, Bessy Bighead, Mrs Dai Bread 2

Chandu Gopalakrishnan- Mrs Willy Nilly, Gwennie

Georgia Griffiths- Mrs Ogmore Pritchard, Polly Garter

Macsen McKay- Mog Edwards, Evans the Death, Mr Pritchard, Mr Pugh, Lord Cut Glass

Izzi McCormack-John- Myfanwy Price, Lily Smalls

Caroline Parker- Waldo’s Mum, Mrs Watkins, Mrs Organ Morgan, Mary Ann Sailors, Mrs Beynon

Douglas Walker- Captain Cat, Waldo, Utah Watkins

Creatives:

Kate Wasserberg- Director

Katie-Elin Salt- Associate Director & Dramaturg

Adam Bassett- BSL Director

Laura Meaton- Movement Director

Hayley Grindle- Set & Costume Designer

Joshua Pharo- Co-Lighting & Video Caption Designer

Sarah Readman (SR)- Co-Lighting & Video Caption Designer

Oliver Vibrans- Composer

Lynwen Haf Roberts- Musical Director

Liam Quinn- Sound Designer

Em Dulson- Assistant Director

Jacob Sparrow- Casting Director

Production Team

Suzy Somerville- Production Manager

Alec Reece- Company Stage Manager

Amber Chapell- Deputy Stage Manager

Phoebe Storm- Assistant Stage Manager

As it says on their website, TRIONGL is a company made up of three founding members, Valmai Jones, Rebecca Knowles and Rebecca Smith-Williams. The members work collaboratively to devise new pieces of theatre that engage with socially relevant themes with joyful scrutiny. The company is Cardiff based and works in both the Welsh and English language as appropriate.

‘Is There Anybody Out There?’ is a devised piece that runs for about an hour and a half. It is performed without an interval. The actors mainly speak in English, frequently addressing the audience directly, but there are a lot of exchanges in Welsh. These exchanges are translated simultaneously into English and are shown on a screen.

The subject of ITAOT is life after death or, more precisely, the spiritualist activity of getting in touch with those who have died by asking them to speak. The subject is treated with respectful irony, as much as ‘joyful scrutiny’, so the tone of the performance is comic. No attempt is made to scare the audience with things that go bump in the night.

The subject matter looks back to a time when it was common enough for audiences to go out to watch mediums ostensibly make contact with the dead. Unfortunately, Angela, our hostess for the evening, is a stand-in who does not believe and who only got involved in the spiritualism business because she was a member of a youth theatre and enjoys acting. To her astonishment, when she tries her hand, she finds herself possessed by the spirit of Debi Kicks, an energetic personal trainer whose class she had attended. She falls to the ground calling out ‘squats!’

It turns out Angela is being haunted by Debi, a restless spirit, unhappy to have passed away suddenly. She fancies a gin and tonic and wants some perfume to counter the smell of putrefaction. The two women are connected by coincidence because after Angela had been persuaded to attend Debi’s exercise class by her policewoman niece, Shona, she too had collapsed afterwards. The only other speaking member of the cast is a bilingual budgie, although there is an extra who assists with non-speaking roles and set changes.

Angela does not enjoy being haunted but starts to think. Maybe dead Debi will be able to put her in touch with Gwen. That way she could carry the stand-in show, talking to Gwen, establishing a real link with the spirit world, instead of having to improvise on the night and risk being exposed as a fraud. Debi, though, has not made contact with anyone apart from a suspicious looking man in a cap who seems to be taking an over-active interest in her. At the same time, Angela is paranoid she may have poisoned Debi by sharing her home made lunch with her. She presses Shona for details of Debi’s death, but Shona is caught up in her wedding plans.

The story is told, or unravelled, by the three women in an ingenious style. They frequently break through the fourth wall to explain what has happened, talking to the audience then switching back to participate in the story. To isolate themselves and re-enter the world of the play, they open and close a curtain. Much of the action behind the curtain takes place in what was Gwen’s caravan, where Angela is now living, but there are other imaginary locations, like the hospital where Angela and Debi are taken after they have collapsed. The set design is basic and realistic.

Interestingly, this is not a farce. The action is always presented at a very steady tempo and the jokes occur, rather than sounding forced. Nothing is emphasised. The acting is so naturalistic it’s invisible: it’s easy to think the cast are appearing as their real selves. The three performers sell themselves to the audience as sympathetic individuals participating in a true story. This approach provides the piece with its originality. It does have the feel of something that has been intensively workshopped, but the theme provides food for thought and the ideas that have been added in are sound. The budgie, of course, is very funny.

Because it moves at its own even pace and avoids relapsing into farce, I don’t think the piece would work in a large venue, but it was well suited to the small auditorium at Twm o’r Nant. It would not appeal greatly to an audience of young people but an older demographic, like those attending in Denbigh, will appreciate its understated approach: spiritualism without melodrama. Possibly the inclusion of more music and a song or two might have strengthened it. The most dynamic moment occurs at the very beginning, with the projection of Debi’s face on the drawn curtain as she exhorts her class to work out. Valmai Jones as Debi demonstrates dance-like skills in her movements. I feel sure other members of the cast have abilities or specific talents that could also have been showcased. A certain amount of showing off is allowed in the theatre and it usually contributes to the occasion.

To end on a positive note – I’d say the company deserves credit for touring their work to venues in towns like Denbigh where communities may be starved of access to contemporary theatre. Venues like Twm o’r Nant, which has an historic connection with an almost forgotten Welsh playwright, need to be kept open and busy. Triongl is touring accessible work which is representative of modern collaborative methods. This can only be a good thing.

Simon Kensdale