{"id":7516,"date":"2017-05-02T18:59:49","date_gmt":"2017-05-02T17:59:49","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=7516"},"modified":"2017-05-02T19:00:02","modified_gmt":"2017-05-02T18:00:02","slug":"how-my-light-is-spent-the-royal-exchange-reviewed-by-marli-roode","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=7516","title":{"rendered":"<em>How My Light Is Spent<\/em>, The Royal Exchange, reviewed by Marli Roode"},"content":{"rendered":"<h5><em>How My Light Is Spent<\/em>, by Alan Harris, directed by Liz Stevenson; April 24 2017.<\/h5>\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2019s the play about?\u201d Zoe asks me over too-spicy pho that she will feel sloshing around later \u2013 <em>audibly I swear, did you not hear it<\/em> \u2013 whenever she moves in her seat in the dark of the Studio Theatre.<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I tell her what I remember from the website. \u201cA man lives with him mom in Newport. Bad job. Maybe no job? Anyway, little happiness.\u201d (I\u2019m trying to wrangle noodles with chopsticks while I wait for a fork, thus the staccato.) \u201cIs that because of Newport? Is it shit?\u201d<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cI dunno.\u201d Then, as if it will answer the question: \u201cWeren\u2019t Goldie Lookin Chain from Newport?\u201d<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cMaybe it\u2019s like the Coventry of Wales. Like a punchline?\u201d Zoe and I met at university near Coventry. That we both know to say <em>near<\/em>, not <em>in<\/em>, means we are not above jokes with easy punchlines. \u201cAnyway, he calls a phone sex operator every week, they talk and to quote Mel C, things will never be the same again.\u201d<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cI think I was a bit too liberal with the garlic sauce.\u201d<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cOh and I forgot the main thing: he starts to disappear. Like, his hands go invisible.\u201d<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cRight, OK.\u201d She smiles. \u201cSo, themes of alienation and connection.\u201d We met over logic problems at university, went on to buzz off of Jeanette Winterson and blue WKD and existentialism together. She taught me the phrase <em>buzz off of<\/em>. Theme chat is in our wheelhouse. \u201cSad lives in bad towns?\u201d<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I nod. \u201cBut it\u2019s a <em>comedy<\/em> about those things. Uplifting.\u201d<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cCool,\u201d she says. \u201cI can handle sad and bad, though. I\u2019m from Rochdale, remember.\u201d<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;See above re easy punchlines.<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The actors are already on stage by the time we arrive. They sit at either end of the narrow platform and in the background, chimes, the sound of seagulls, music that wobbles like a radio in 1959 is being tuned.<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In front of us: \u201cYou turn up and it\u2019s already started. We\u2019re already kind of part of things, aren\u2019t we?\u201d<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;A staticky bar of Onward Christian Soldiers and then the play begins. And it\u2019s funny and quick and very, well, writerly: <\/p>\n<div style=\"margin-left: 6em;\">When Kitty answered the phone \u2013<br \/>\n<em>Good evening, this is Kitty \u2013<\/em><br \/>\nHe was already on the verge.<br \/>\n<em>What should I call you?<\/em><br \/>\nJimmy, the night before, had watched Troy on Film 4.<br \/>\n<em>Umm, Hector.<\/em><br \/>\nFrom Kitty\u2019s point of view what followed was all very typical. Little did she know this was the start of a story for her too.<\/div>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;At the door, they handed out copies of the play. Afterwards, I want to see how the thing is written. There\u2019s no speaker attribution, and the notes say the play is written for any number of performers, with dialogue to be divided up as future productions see fit. Director Liz Stevenson\u2019s decision to use only two performers, Rhodri Meilir (as Jimmy) and Alexandra Riley (as Kitty), is a smart one: they are both excellent, Riley especially so with her quieter material, doubling up as Jimmy\u2019s mother, Rita, and estranged\/abandoned daughter, Mallary.<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And in general, the production is very good. Joshua Pharo\u2019s lighting and Giles Thomas\u2019s sound design add depth and texture to what are often extremely short scenes. Maroon 5 for the caf\u00e9 date is the perfect, nauseating choice. The direction and movement in the playground scenes \u2013 with the characters on a seesaw and swings \u2013 is grounded in place in a way that you wouldn\u2019t expect given the whole thing takes place on a long, elevated platform.<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;What limits the play, both in terms of laughs and emotional resonance, particularly in the final scene, is how it\u2019s written. The opening notes contrast real-time dialogue (presented in italics) with \u201cnarrative dialogue\u201d, where the play does a lot of telling:<\/p>\n<div style=\"margin-left: 6em;\"><em>I\u2019ve been sacked, Mum. Replaced. By a bin.<\/em><br \/>\nRita\u2019s husband, Gregor, had left her when they lived in Llanelli.<br \/>\nNo contact since for her or son Jimmy \u2013<br \/>\nNot even a birthday card.<br \/>\nSeveral failed relationships, some good \u2013<br \/>\nSome fucking terrible \u2013 including Jacob who stole all the savings she\u2019d hidden in a bag of flour on Christmas Eve \u2013<br \/>\nResulting in her and Jimmy ending up in Ringland.<br \/>\nNewport.<br \/>\nFucking Newport.<br \/>\nEven though she felt and outsider Rita did her damndest to fit in in Newport.<br \/>\nAnd wanted that for Jimmy too.<br \/>\n<em>There might be jobs going at the new retail park, Friar\u2019s Walk \u2013<\/em><br \/>\nThat\u2019s when the tingling started in jimmy\u2019s hands.<br \/>\nThat\u2019s when the change happened.<br \/>\nWhen he realised<br \/>\n<em>What am I qualified to do after taking orders off doughnut eaters twenty times and hour?<br \/>\nYou\u2019ll have to sign on.<br \/>\nFuck.<\/em><\/div>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;This style sets a fine, brisk pace and is often exploited for irony, but to my (admittedly grounded in the novel tradition) mind, there\u2019s too much of this telling, too little showing. A moment of real distress on Jimmy\u2019s part, when he\u2019s contemplating signing on, moves very quickly to more narration. Over the course of the play, this style means many of the emotional beats fail to land. The scenes with Mallary are a relief when they come being as they are both longer and featuring less narration and more real-time dialogue.<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;There is the problem, too, of Kitty (\u201cLittle did she know this was the start of a story for her too\u201d). Jimmy speaks to her for nine minutes every Wednesday night for eight months, during which time she never talks about herself, and Jimmy falls in love with her. OK, fine, I guess. Less fine: her somehow falling in love with him and togetherness being posited as a happy ending for them both. She\u2019s no Manic Pixie Dream Girl \u2013 she does have an inner life, even if it\u2019s only very shallowly explored, both in narration and dialogue \u2013 but she\u2019s not far off, as written. Or rather, a lot of the tropes are there: her options in life all revolve around men; Jimmy tries to \u201csave\u201d her from escort work; her ambitions to study psychology are written off, at the end, as merely dreams of <em>\u201cstudying for a course that analyses what people do \u2013 instead of actually doing something herself\u201d.<\/em> Her backstory, when we get it, is vague, cloaked in euphemistic language: <em>flick a switch so she didn\u2019t have to exist, lose herself, want to disappear.<\/em> Sigh.<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And look, I\u2019m into the uncertainty about whether Jimmy is actually, literally disappearing, about whether it\u2019s a writer\u2019s metaphor or the character\u2019s psychosis or an actual science miracle. I\u2019d be into a take on Sartre\u2019s <em>Nausea<\/em> featuring more jokes. But when Jimmy asks, at the end, whether <em>Kitty<\/em> can see <em>him<\/em>, I bristle. When we\u2019re told (not shown) that they are two lights burning for each other, I don\u2019t buy it. And when we\u2019re told their love lights up Newport, that nothing else matters, I don\u2019t feel it, uplifted. Just sceptical.<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cMaybe we\u2019re cynics,\u201d Zoe says as we walk to the tram stop afterwards. We clap for a man playing keyboard on Market Street.<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I shake my head. \u201cWe\u2019re just real people.\u201d<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cWith personalities that are a lot to take and also exes.\u201d<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cYeah, and mistakes we\u2019re constantly analysing whether we\u2019re making again.\u201d<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cYep, furiously studying Savage Love every week.\u201d<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I laugh. \u201cRealists, but still sometimes with hearts where our eyes should be.\u201d<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cIt\u2019s better, right?\u201d<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I\u2019ve seen Coventry and Manchester light up. But happy endings, in fiction and elsewhere, have to be earned. And more to the point, they have to be seen for what they are: not an ending at all. That\u2019s the fun of it.<br \/>\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cIt\u2019s better.\u201d <\/p>\n<h5><em>How My Light Is Spent<\/em> is at <a href=\"https:\/\/www.royalexchange.co.uk\/whats-on-and-tickets\/how-my-light-is-spent\">The Royal Exchange<\/a> until May 13.<\/h5>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>How My Light Is Spent, by Alan Harris, directed by Liz Stevenson; April 24 2017. \u201cWhat\u2019s the play about?\u201d Zoe asks me over too-spicy pho that she will feel sloshing around later \u2013 audibly I swear, did you not hear it \u2013 whenever she moves in her seat in the dark of the Studio Theatre. [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":56,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[283,17],"tags":[],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v20.2.1 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>How My Light Is Spent, The Royal Exchange, reviewed by Marli Roode - The Manchester Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=7516\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"How My Light Is Spent, The Royal Exchange, reviewed by Marli Roode - The Manchester Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"How My Light Is Spent, by Alan Harris, directed by Liz Stevenson; April 24 2017. \u201cWhat\u2019s the play about?\u201d Zoe asks me over too-spicy pho that she will feel sloshing around later \u2013 audibly I swear, did you not hear it \u2013 whenever she moves in her seat in the dark of the Studio Theatre. 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