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Abigail's Party

by Lenore
Abigail's Party

 

Abigail’s Party is one of those ‘nothing’s happening yet everything’s happening’ plays. It’s subtle yet brash, hilarious yet shocking. And the same can be said of the set (which was amazing). First performed in 1977, the play is a slice of Seventies' society, with class changes and marital tensions barely hidden by the loud prints. Especially after ten gin and tonics. On the surface brown flares, ‘cheesy pineapple ones’ and Demis Roussos provide the entertainment, but underneath this are five unhappy, stressed or demoralised characters just trying to get through life, and an evening of drinks at Beverly’s house.

Lead ‘Beverly’ was played by Amanda Abbington (who you may recognise from Sherlock and Mr Selfridge), a frustrated used-to-be head of the playground, now bored housewife, as distasteful as a car crash, and just as hard to look away from. Her dominant, bullying character is instantly recognisable from our own social circles, as is the brow beaten husband, the new friend who wants to be accepted (or is too stupid to realise what’s actually happening), the guy who feels like a failure so puts other people down and the woman who is too polite to say anything at all, despite throwing up five gins. This one room play requires subtlety and the ability to manage silences as well as moments of aggression which the five cast members did admirably. The script is conversation heavy, with the nuances and body language, as well as what is left unsaid, providing the depth and social insight to the otherwise light evening chit-chat. At least until it all goes wrong.

The performance was tense, hilarious and shocking in almost equal measure, with more laughs from the audience than younger me remembers from watching the televised version. The cast received riotous applause, with some audience members rising to their feet as the actors took their bow. The set and costumes should have received their own round of applause, as the audience was transported through a wood panelled portal surrounded by fibre optic lamps, nibbles trays and brown floral prints as the set literally opened up and Beverly poured herself a drink looking like an extra from Xanadu. Tense social commentary with comedy relief, expertly handled. If only I didn’t have Demis Roussos stuck in my head now…

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