REVIEW: The Full Monty, Grand Opera House, York, leaving hats on until Sat ****

Bill Ward’s Gerald, left, Danny Hatchard’s Gaz, Nicholas Prasad’s Lomper and Neil Hurst’s Dave watch understudy Leyon Stolz-Hunter’s Horse go through his audition moves in The Full Monty. Picture: Ellie Kurttz

AT the midweek matinee, there appeared to be more men on stage than in the audience. It was very much the same febrile atmosphere that greeted the Chippendales on their York Barbican visits.

Outnumbered, dear reader, yes, but ironically The Full Monty is just as much a show for blokes too. Hence the link up with Menfulness, the York mental health charity.

Throughout this week’s run, the Grand Opera House will be collecting donations at bars and kiosk card payment points to provide funds towards urgent counselling for men at crisis point.

Men don’t talk to each other. Not about their problems, neither their own, nor each other’s. Just the football. But they do talk in this play. A lot. Men would benefit from doing it more often.

In the meantime, let’s talk about this terrific touring revival of The Full Monty, the spin-off play that the 1997 film’s scriptwriter, Simon Beaufoy premiered in 2013 in his first work for the stage.

In essence it is another strip off the same block, The Fuller Monty that goes even further, replaying the film’s greatest bits and greatest hits (Hot Chocolate, Donna Summer, Tom Jones finale), but with resonance anew and a political punch to the gut amid the cost-of-living crisis, rising rate of men’s suicides and a Tory government mired in long-reigning powerplays.

Just as was the case in the Sheffield of 1990s’ industrial strife, whose skyline forms the backdrop to Jasmine Swan’s fold-out set design of scaffolding and gauze.

Policemen’s drill: Nicholas Prasad’s Lomper, left, understudy Leyon Stolz-Hunter’s Horse, Jake Quickenden’s Guy, Bill Ward’s Gerald and Neil Hurst’s Dave in the finale to The Full Monty. Picture: Ellie Kurttz

The Republic of South Yorkshire’s steel industry had been knifed in the back, steelworkers stripped of their jobs, their dignity, their future. Men like former prisoner Gaz (Danny Hatchard, from EastEnders and Not Going Out) and his best mate, big Dave (Neil Hurst), who operated the steelworks crane.

The lads are now consigned to the scrapheap, the forlorn job club form-filling, and thieving from the foundry, where they have snuck into as the play opens, looking up at the crane, named Margaret after you know who, once mighty but now dormant in the damp, ever since the factory was shut down.

They will encounter insecure security guard Lomper (Nicholas Prasad), stuck in a dead-end job that he wants to end with a rope around his neck. Next will be Gerald (Bill Ward, from Coronation Street and Emmerdale), the jumped-up foreman with a sideline in dance tuition at the Conservative club and a free-spending wife (in Mrs Thatcher blue suits and stiff blonde hair), who is yet to tell he has lost his job. Six months ago.

On a night out at the Chippendales are Jean (Harrogate Theatre regular Katy Dean), Dave’s long-suffering yet devoted cleaner wife, and Mandy (Laura Matthews), Gaz’s ex-wife, who is threatening to cut off his links with son Nathan (Jack Wisniewski, sharing the role on tour with Cass Dempsey, Theo Hills and Rowan Poulton) as he falls further behind with the maintenance.

Ever the Billy Fisher dreamer, Gaz hits on the fundraising idea of forming a strip act, a Yorkshire fish-and-chips answer to the Chippendales’ T-bone steak, for one night only. Gerald will teach the routines, joined by Gaz, lovable, ever-dieting Dave, offbeat Lomper and who else?

The auditions, always a highlight, bring the first half to a double climax under Michael Gyngell’s perfectly weighted direction. First, step forward, a tad gingerly, Horse (Ben Onwukwe), with his James Brown/Northen Soul moves and dodgy hip.

Next, the moment the matinee hordes had been waiting for: the arrival to whoops and cheers of Jake Quickenden, last seen in York stripping down to his golden hot pants as a hunky cowboy in Footloose at the Theatre Royal. This time, Jake and his fabbadabbadoo abs are playing Guy, although audience members are quick to shout out Jake’s name, demanding rather more than a pound of flesh.  

The full package: Jake Quickenden’s Guy in The Full Monty. Picture: Ellie Kurttz

He takes it all in his stride, staying in character, gay, gorgeous but still coming to terms with a lost love, in keeping with Gyngell’s production playing the big tease, but always being true to Beaufoy’s original spirit.

For many, The Full Monty will be familiar, and that familiarity breeds contentment amid the discontent of the lives depicted, played here as if the for the first time.

The bare truths surround impotence, unemployment, loneliness and suicide attempts. You laugh because otherwise you would cry, and sometimes you do both at once, faced by comedy and pathos, mischief and melancholia in tandem, dealing with the stuff of life:  resilience, community, fighting back, and love, in whatever form, whatever shape. The Yorkshire of Keith Waterhouse, John Godber, Alan Plater.

This Cheltenham Everyman Theatre and Buxton Opera House touring production delivers the Fullest Monty yet, superbly cast, with spot-on lighting by Andrew Exeter, ace choreography by Ian West, and a soundtrack not only of the film favourites but Pulp, Primal Scream, The Verve and Chumbawamba too.

It feels wrong to pick out performances: Ward, Onwukwe and Prasad all shine, but partnerships are particularly strong in Gyngell’s company. Take your pick:  the friendship of Hatchard’s Gaz and Hurst’s Dave (with his echoes of York’s Mark Addy). The bond between Hatchard’s Gaz and Wisniewski as his canny-beyond-his-years son, at once amusing yet deeply moving too.

Or the ups and downs of Hurst’s Dave and Dean’s Jean, so been there, done that. And then there’s Quickenden’s Guy and his appendage, his Monty python, if you like.

Performances: 7.30pm tonight and tomorrow; 2.30pm and 7.30pm, Saturday. Box office: atgtickets.com/york

REVIEW: Charles Hutchinson’s verdict on Abigail’s Party at Harrogate Theatre ****

Elvis is in the building: Beverly (Katy Dean) reaches for a Presley platter as the party atmosphere turns ever more awkward in Abigail’s Party. Paul Hawkyard’s Tony, left, and Robin Simpson’s Laurence keep their distance. Faye Seerawinghe’s Angela, seated, left, and Janine Mellor’s Sue, await with trepidation. All pictures: Ant Robling, Robling Photography

Abigail’s Party, HT Rep, Harrogate Theatre/Phil & Ben Productions, at Harrogate Theatre, 7.30pm tonight and tomorrow; 2.30pm, 7.30pm, Saturday. Box office: 01423 502116 or harrogatetheatre.co.uk

HARROGATE Theatre’s HT Rep 2022 season of Three Plays, Three Weeks, One Cast opens with Mike Leigh’s caustic comedy Abigail’s Party, written in 1977, the year of The Queen’s Silver Jubilee and now revived in the year of her Platinum Jubilee.

Director Marcus Romer, Harrogate Theatre’s associate producer, had planned to have the Sex Pistols’ 1977 anthem God Save The Queen seeping through the walls from Abigail’s punk and booze-fuelled party next door, but the events of last Thursday afternoon saw a respectful change to Anarchy In The UK.

Romer has form for Abigail’s Party, having steered York Theatre Royal’s 2005 repertory production. Now the spirit of rep theatre is being repeated in a third such autumn season at Harrogate, the cast piggy-backing from one play to the next, rehearsing Abigail’s Party for a week, and now rehearsing Patrick Hamilton’s Gaslight by day and staging Leigh’s suburban comedy of awkward social-climbing manners by night.

Husband-and-wife strife in Abigail’s Party: Robin Simpson’s Laurence and Katy Dean’s Beverly having a difference of opinion…again

The same process will follow next week, when Paul Hawkyard, Robin Simpson and Janine Mellor will knock John Godber’s Men Of The World into shape in the daytime rehearsal room under Amy Burns Walker’s direction before Harrogate-born Faye Weerasinghe, Simpson, Harrogate pantomime regular Katy Dean, Mellor and Ian Kirkby form co-producer Ben Roddy’s cast each night for Gaslight.

In rep tradition, there is a familiarity to the cast, not only Dean, but also Mellor from the 2019 HT Rep season’s On The Piste and Deathtrap and her dual roles as Dandini and a Snugly Sister in last winter’s Cinderella, while rising star Weerasinghe played the lead in Full English at Harrogate Theatre in June.

York audiences, meanwhile, will need no introduction to Hawkyard and Simpson, whether from Shakespeare’s Rose Theatre or their Mardy and Manky double act in Cinderella at the Theatre Royal last winter. Captain Hook and Mrs Darling await them in All New Adventures Of Peter Pan this winter.

Now put them all together in surely one of the most destructive yet indestructible of English comedies. Your reviewer is yet to see a duff production and Romer’s return to Leigh is another winner.

The quiet and the constant noise: Janine Mellor’s Sue and Katy Dean’s Beverly

It is Katy Dean’s turn to behave appallingly in the Alison Stedman-patented lead role of gauche Beverly, dark haired this time rather than bottle-blonde but still over-dressed for cheese and pineapple-stick nibbles in her fuchsia party dress.

Embroiled in a stultifying game of one-upmanship with dyspeptic, workaholic property-agent husband Laurence (Simpson), their latest playground for point-scoring is a soiree for their new neighbours, taciturn ex-professional footballer Tony (Hawkyard) and nervous nurse Angela (Weerasinghe) in their oh-so Seventies’ North London living room.

Joining them with reluctance written all over her face is Sue (Mellor), banished from her 15-year-old daughter’s party, fretful that it will get out of hand. as it inevitably does.

Leigh depicts a Britain heading towards the acquisitive Thatcherite era of material greed. Already the status-symbol fibre-optic lamps, drinks cabinet and brown sofas are in place in Geoff Gilder’s design.

Faye Weerasinghe’s Angela, left, and Katy Dean’s Beverly, standing, attend to Janine Mellor’s Sue after one too many top-ups

Tensions rise, tempers flare, the polite veneer gradually erodes under the influence as Dean’s monstrous Beverly has her sport at the hands of her guests and mocked husband amid the surfeit of gin top-ups and chain-smoked “little cigarettes”, with her recourse to Donna Summer, Demis Roussos and Elvis records failing to break the awkwardness.

For all her restless noise and surface swagger, the tactless and tasteless Beverly is lonely behind the perma-cigarette haze, frustrated by the absence of bedroom action, empty too, for all her superficial possessions and on-trend kitchen gadgets.  Full of aspiration yet desperation.

Simpson’s Laurence is sullen and sunken in Beverly’s loud, crushing shadow, stewing at his shallow wife’s dismissal of his tentative, self-improving interest in art.

New to your reviewer, wide-eyed Weerasinghe is outstanding as the effusive, chatterbox nurse Angela, talking ever looser as the gin kicks in, then dancing as out of time as a stopped clock.

Paul Hawkyard’s taciturn Tony on the turn

Hawkyard, meanwhile, maximises minimum words as the humourless Tony, whose imposing demeanour goes from monosyllabic indifference to not-funny wound-up menace to sudden snapping point.

Mellor’s Sue is Leigh’s quiet voice of excruciating middle-class discomfort, stuck in the middle yet desperate to be elsewhere, having to put up with Beverly’s insensitive inquisition about her marriage breakdown and Angela’s well-meant over-fussing.

Very 1977 and yet full of English characteristics that have not changed, and probably never will, Leigh’s writing is as sharp as a punk safety pin, his contempt unconfined for values so anathema to him, his humour merciless and deeply wounding.

Romer squeezes Leigh’s sour lemon to the max, knowing just how far to go for the juiciest bitter comedy when Beverly keeps going too far. One hell of a party, one hell of a play, one hell of a knockout production.