The Promise, Minerva Theatre Chichester Review
Miles Richardson, Clare Burt, Clive Burt, Clive Wood & Andrew Woodall in The Promise. Photo by Helen MurrayWritten by Rosie for Theatre and Tonic.
Disclaimer: Gifted tickets in return for an honest review. All opinions are our own.
There has, perhaps, never been a better time for Paul Unwin’s new play The Promise to make its debut in the world of theatre. Under a month has passed since the latest UK general election where Labour won in a substantial victory over the preceding Conservative government, and as if fate had a funny hand in the timing, Unwin’s new drama focuses on the tumultuous time directly following the Second World War where Labour won their space in government in another landslide election win. Inheriting a country in despair following the horrors of World War II, Prime Minister Attlee and his Labour Party focused greatly on rebuilding a society where social services, societal reforms and nationalisation were at the forefront of the issues to be tackled; it also headed the formation of the National Health Service (first established in this time in 1948) which has, throughout history, become a pinnacle of achievement for the United Kingdom. Unwin gives a major narrative voice to two pioneers of the Labour Party’s bid for equality and provides the audience with a political landscape not too far removed from our own nearly 80 years later.
Featuring well-known persons throughout the period of post-war history including, but not limited to, Clement Attlee (played by Andrew Woodall), Nye Bevan (played by Richard Harrington), and only the second female member of parliament, Ellen Wilkinson (played by Clare Burt). Unwin’s play gives a brief, humanising insight into a time where care and community were essential to the survival of the people of the United Kingdom. Directed by Jonathan Kent, the play takes place between two time periods, both facing their own war-torn challenges: act one focuses on the immediate aftermath of a world war and the election itself, and act two delves into the challenges faced by the party just two years into leadership. It is a tricky balancing act trying to portray these real humans as just that: human. Whilst Unwin’s depictions are fictionalised versions of the historical figures, Kent draws the side of these humans that people may feel detached from. For many, politicians are far enough removed from society that they feel robotic and self-servient, but under careful direction these actors are able to show a side to these figures that is not frequently shown when presenting to the general public. Frustrations, sorrows, disbelief and heart are all shown in abundance, grounding the show in real humanity and care for the subjects discussed.
Particularly impressive were that of the performances of leading lady, Clare Burt as Ellen Wilkinson, and Richard Harrington as Nye Bevan, the optimistic proprietor of the NHS. These two shone throughout the play in solo and group moments alike, treating these roles with real passion that bled through into every action and word. Every moment they cried out for change for the better - in health, in housing, in the way of life - felt as real to the play as it does in modern day society. It is strange to think that even 76 years on from the time of this play, we as humans living in a modern Britain are still fighting for the exact same things. The play brought an overwhelming sense of sorrow and anger to think that for every step forward we make in history as a nation, we can be blocked and thrown twenty steps back.
Some of the strongest scenes were helmed within the cabinet setting with the multitude of post-war Labour MPs quarrelling with one another over issues we, sadly, still face today. The business of these scenes were a great chance to show how much the voice of Wilkinson (Burt) had to be raised to be taken seriously - even then, her “emotions” were so often called into question. Wilkinson’s emotion throughout the play was explored in a fascinating contrast between the good emotion (her desire to fight for the People) and the bad emotion (her desperation as her sickness starts to worsen). Bevan’s drive to make a nationalised healthcare system for the good is also eloquently counteracted with his underlying desire to assimilate to his surroundings, whether that’s changing his suit type dependent on the class he is interacting with, or using his position of power to get black market items unavailable to the masses. Everything is in great juxtaposition, helped by the great performances. Another surprising stand out was that of Ernie Bevin, former Labour Minister (played by Clive Wood) who brought a relatable, very aptly-timed humour to a strenuous situation where, when stripped down to its core, was just undeniably human in his performance.
Unfortunately, even when filled with a cabinet of actors all bickering nonsensically in a timeless, recognisable fashion not unlike modern government, the use of the Minerva space felt empty and undesirable. Faced with clunky set pieces that jostled and shuddered about their track when moving in and out of scene, the show really lacked in a tangible, solid set. Projections of old post-war images and videos donned a block on stage, and precariously rose and fell on command. Many moments saw set pieces colliding with one another and feeling lacklustre in their conception. The most impressive piece of scenic storytelling was the opening of act one where Burt proceeds to recite the previously mentioned empowering speech, having her stood on a platform overlooking the Minerva audience. That, or the long cabinet table frequented by the many male members of parliament when arguing regarding matters of secretarial roles or the health of the country. It is a shame that a play that is rooted in history does not draw more deeply from the historical setting of the show. Whilst the parliamentary settings could be said to be purposefully cold and empty compared to the Bevan household, it merely felt like I was excusing a lack of anything interesting to look at. The space offered nothing exciting for the actors and the direction, with a multitude of scenes allowing members of the cast to stand idly and strangely in the back of the empty set. It was an added shame that multiple moments of conflict were broken by distraction from noisy beds and set pieces moving around backstage.
Whilst fictitiously portraying versions of these very real historical figures, Unwin’s The Promise allowed the audience to learn about the foundations of lasting societal changes we still value today. It is a shame, however, that the large majority of the text feels disjointed - and not purposefully so. Scenes feel thrown together in a strange linear timeline that make for good history, but not-so-great theatre. I could feel so desperately that something very important wanted to be said, especially in a recent post-general election age where everything feels very tumultuous and strained, but it never quite crossed the finish line. The word “change” floated about throughout the script, issuing in pictures of what Labour was then versus what it is now, but there was never any real sense of where they were trying to take that narrative. It is always difficult when portraying real-life events, because fiction allows for a nice, tidy narrative - reality does not always offer the same relief; “The Promise” falls into the latter, attempting to sell a story it can never quite deliver on. Even with some incredible performances from the likes of Clare Burt, The Promise feels like it errs on the side of caution in its storytelling, promising greatness in the message it portrays but not quite delivering to the masses. It’s an intriguing watch and a good study of character within the socio-political landscape of post-war Britain suited to anybody with a fondness for the history of that time, but still requires a lot of work to flatten out the creases and disjointed storytelling.
At Minerva Theatre, Chichester until 17 Aug.
☆ ☆ ☆
THEATRE/PRODUCTION NOTES:
This show contains: thick smoke, haze, loud and sudden sound effects, as well as the use of frequent e-cigarettes.
The Minerva Theatre is a fully accessible space with lift access, accessible toilets on both ground and first floor (where the theatre space is situated), and these toilets have audio-visual assistance for those with visual impairments that may need descriptions of where objects are in the space. CFT’s access scheme is easy to navigate and they offer a wide range of accessibility options to patrons, including but not limited to “Buddies” for those who do not feel comfortable attending the theatre alone, touch tours before certain performances and specific seat descriptions for those who need larger seats or specific requirements.
