Me and My Friend, The King’s Arms, Salford, 9th-13th March 2015 

Me and My Friend is an award-winning black comedy by prolific playwright Gillian Plowman, about the lives of four ex-patients of a mental hospital, prematurely released due to ward closures. The comedy is a particularly dark shade of black, and at times the comedic elements and almost pantomime performances were a little uncomfortable given the subject matter, which may or may not serve to hammer the message home. Though written in the 1980s, the play illuminates a social issue particularly relevant today in light of public spending cuts to NHS mental health services.

Each of the characters is struggling to readjust to normal life, or at least to lives where they are expected to get jobs, make plans, make dinner, make friends… With mounting desperation we witness each of the characters’ attempts to move past their tragic histories, chatting and joking manically, often humorously, only to suddenly unravel again. Particularly effective in this respect is Bunny, played with infectious energy by Joe Mallalieu, who despite his best efforts falls pray to traumatic memories triggered during the first scene. His almost fatal regression occurs while his flatmate and fellow ex-patient Oz, played by Wilf Williams, is consumed by his own anxious ruminations. ‘The blind leading the blind’ is a particularly poignant metaphor that enhances tension throughout the play. However, their backstories slip into cliché at times: Oz, for example, as a socially inept postman who was too close to his recently deceased mother. Bunny’s story holds the most interest in this respect, but as each of the characters performed their impassioned monologues in which we learned of their pasts, these became somewhat formulaic reveals.

The play begins depicting the rather charming friendship between two men who are struggling to find themselves as independent adults again, as they consider their job and social prospects. Towards the end of the scene, they decide to connect with two women who are also ex-patients living in the same building, which leads us to brief set change before we find ourselves in a parallel situation: Julia, played by Gemma Green, and Robin, played by Kelly Ward, desperately trying to put a happy face on their own future prospects while being pulled backwards by their tragic pasts.

The first part of the play, centred on the boys’ flat, was the strongest. The dialogue between the two men, though playful and silly, was more sophisticated and witty than the women’s. ‘Which came first the wife or the job, the job or the wife?’ jokes Bunny during a meltdown. It was easier to imagine that they were once functioning adults before their breakdowns than it was with the women. The first scene also contains a few pleasing running jokes, cleverly weaved into the dialogue throughout the play, though it is noticeably the men that source this comedy. Though all the characters were depicted as childlike and, sometimes excessively, naïve, arguably insulting to those suffering with mental health issues, the girls in particular, were depicted as silly, and gender stereotypes were difficult to overlook given the way the play is divided. For example, as the set changed from the boys’ flat to the girls, a desk and newspaper was replaced with a vanity mirror and make-up.

There is a danger when assuming the role of a person with mental health issues of caricature and slipping into stereotypical utterances and gestures, which I’m afraid was not entirely avoided in this play. Kelly Ward, who portrayed Robin, was the only actor who managed to retain fluidity to her twitches and pained expressions during her monologues. Though sometimes well-observed, Wilf in particular at the beginning doing a good job of playing Oz as an anxious neurotic, as the play developed the actors seemed to try to outdo themselves and by the end Oz appears to have developed Tourette’s Syndrome.

Overall, the production was entertaining and enjoyable, and the unique venue served to enhance audience engagement. The King’s Arms pub hosts on its upper-floor two small but perfectly formed theatres. Me and My Friend was showing in the larger of the two rooms, and though on occasion we could hear voices from Theatre 2 down the hallway, this added to the atmosphere. We were sat a stone’s throw from the actors, a novel experience which made the play more exciting to watch; especially, the use of gruesome special effects in the first half of the play had us all cringing in our seats.

Emma Rhys

Comments are closed.