The intimate Donmar Warehouse lends itself perfectly
to the equally intimate kitchen setting of Peter
Gill’s play, The York Realist. Set in the sixties, this understated, but
pitch perfect play concerns a gay couple with totally different lifestyles. George (Ben
Batt), a farmer, lives with his ailing mother (Lesley Nicol) in a remote part of Yorkshire, whilst John (Jonathan Bailey), an aspiring theatre
director from London, is temporarily in York directing a production of The York
Mystery Plays. They get to know one
another as George has a small part in the production. Surprisingly it is the working-class country
boy who is completely at ease with his sexual proclivities from the get go (at
least in John’s presence). Whereas shy, middle-class
John is more hesitant in accepting the sexual charge between the two of
them.
When the play opens, George’s
mother has just died and he receives an unexpected visit from John who is back
in York for a week working at the Theatre Royal. We then go back in time to try and explain
the palpable tension that now exists between the two men and why, despite the release
from being at his adored mother’s constant side, George is still unable to fly
his rather ramshackle nest and move to a different existence with his
lover. It’s not just the class divide
that prevents the two ending up happy ever after, but the spiritual ties that
tend to bind us to our roots, however much we often refuse to admit it.
Robert
Hastie directs the play with
subtlety and charm and, unlike so many plays with a gay theme, there is no
physical sexuality on stage. Looks and
words are all that is needed to produce the obvious sexual chemistry between
the two men. And due to the short
distance between audience and cast, we’re privy to every nuance between Batt
and Bailey, who are so beguiling in their roles, that their chemistry doesn’t
just smoulder but ignites.
Ben
Batt is every inch the beefcake farm labourer who only
really comes alive when his friend is around.
In the presence of his sister and son-in-law and, more importantly
Doreen (the equally impressive Katie
West) who so obviously carries an enormous torch for him, he retreats into
his shell, becoming laconic and brooding. At the end of the play, his repressed agony at
letting John go, is desperately moving.
The equally well cast Jonathan Bailey, perfectly captures the
rather more uptight townie, all oohs and aahs at the rustic charm of the cottage
kitchen, especially the old-fashioned kitchen range. All nervous laughter and ‘rabbit in the
headlight’ stares, his timidity causes the two men to swap roles and allow George
to take the ‘director’ mantle.
Whether or not George’s
mother realises her son’s preference for men is never entirely sure, but Lesley Nicol infuses her character with
warm, no nonsense Yorkshire charm. Equally
affecting are the remaining cast, Brian
Fletcher as the impudent, head in the clouds nephew and Lucy Black playing George’s obviously
unfulfilled married sister, Barbara, married to Matthew Wilson’s Arthur.
The play will soon be
transferring to the Sheffield Crucible,
where I’m sure it will get the appreciative Yorkshire audience it
deserves. Before it does, for ninety-five
minutes, we southerners are transported to the hills and dales of their county
in the most realistic way possible.
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