MIDNIGHT

By Jacqueline Wilson adapted by Vicky Ireland

The Lyceum Theatre Sheffield

As Simon Cowell might say “This is difficult” or “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” Being a positive person we’ll start with the bad and finish with the good which may hopefully leave a more pleasant taste in the reader’s mouth.

I’ll admit in terms of Jacqueline Wilson’s work I’m something of a novice, being neither a teenager or ever wanting to remain one. And yet, last night, at The Lyceum Theatre in Sheffield the entrance carpet was festooned with enough teenage hormones to make us all feel slightly spotty and awkward again.

The stage was a forest of (so called) imagination, with a circular walkway leading towards a bedroom, no doubt representing everyone’s circuitous route towards sexuality (or just a very good way of using the space). The kitchen table and four chairs, however, revealed that our imaginings would always be confounded by the reality of life. A kitchen sink drama of teenage proportions was therefore about to unfold. A sparse address advised everyone to use the time before the play began to open up any noisy sweet wrappers they may have purchased in the foyer before the show. Many obliged, whilst still more took to opening their sweet wrappers throughout the entire production. Teenagers!

Very quickly we were introduced to dancing scene changers, who obviously relished a more interesting way to move a table and no doubt felt more involved in the play. Soon after we were introduced to the ‘puppets’, a motley crew they were and no doubt intended to represent the real characters on stage. They came, their carers gesticulated with them wildly, all of which was unfortunately lost on someone more than ten rows back, as I was. Puppets are a wonderful idea when they are either a: huge and can be seen on the back row, or

b: in a small venue.

The puppets in ‘Midnight’ were tiny, intricate, lovingly produced and totally lost on most of the audience. Certainly I searched for most of the production for a point to their existence. (My quest was unfulfilled). They did however (I suppose) add an air of magicality or surrealism to a show that may have failed to hold a teenagers attention otherwise.

Another conceit, or as theatre directors call them “a good idea” was to have the main characters on stage mimicked by ‘lookeelikees’ behind a see through curtain. Two or three times we were treated to this marvel for no other purpose than it could be done. The purpose or effect on the play was lost on me again.

In the interval I was lucky enough to speak to a teenager, also reviewing the play, who said that the male lead was far too old and deep voiced for how she’s imagined his character to be. She was also struggling to hear some of the play, didn’t like the puppets or see through curtain bit, but then, as her mother commented, “you have read it five times”. I must consider myself lucky then to have never read the book, as it is a piece of theatre that we must see this.

The plot, such as it was, involves a young girl called Violet discovering herself, whilst also providing a running commentary by writing to an imaginary friend, an illustrator. Her brother, her closest friend has just learnt that he is adopted and struggling with the knowledge. He is quickly supplanted in our heroine’s affection by a new girl at school, the daughter of an actor, called Jasmine. Violet’s mum and dad, seem perfectly respectable apart from their propensity to leave the children home alone whenever the playwright needs another scene with the youngsters. Eventually, Violet meets her imaginary friend in real life, a recluse who draws ‘Angels’. He is a large man, who, as he says “draws small”. He advises Violet that as she is small that she should “dream large”. (Yawn). Will, the adopted son, discovers why he was adopted (cot death of an earlier child), cops off with the actors daughter and then all is resolved with the theatrical equivalent of a group hug.

Understandably I felt very old whilst watching all of this. The forest scenery, puppets, lookeelikees all perhaps seemed a necessary artifice for making the ‘pain’ that teenagers feel seem to have meaning – which it does…….to them!

‘And now for the good news’.

Sarah O’Leary, as Violet, shamed as being 25yrs of age in the programme holds the play together with a marvellous ease and is believably young. At no point did her age bely her age (if you see what I mean) and without her sincerity and mastery the production would have undoubtedly fallen apart.

James Camilleri, 25 also, who played Violet’s older brother seemed to me to be very realistically 16 or 17 (disenchanted, rebellious, adventurous – but would still need his mum to wash his clothes at the weekend). He had the look of all youths who are inches away from starting university and being ‘adults’. Rebecca Santos, 24, as Jasmine, looking all the while the epitome of the taller, better looking, sexually advanced friend, suggested her own tragedy as a character admirably well, but never made the character’s attention seeking behaviour any less than believable and understandable. All three leads showed a real sense of stage presence and physical comedy and all bode well for the future of theatre in this country (if they ever get the chance).

Unfortunately the older roles seem severely underwritten and clichéd. Joe Cushley, as Violet’s father, seemed to impress particularly after the half when he had more to do, whilst Lynn Armitage as the mother had to struggle with very little throughout the play. Both, however, played their parts very well under difficult circumstances.

Steve Dineen, as the actor father of Jasmine made as much as was possible with a script that required him to be clichéd and with a plot line that went nowhere. He did however suggest that with a better part that he could pass muster with the finest. Indeed I’d love to see a play about his character’s life.

Overall, speaking as one who fell in love as a teenager, had I seen this play as a 15 year old I would have probably thought this play was the greatest I’d ever seen, which leads us to the final tragedy…… Am I the right person to review this? I suspect not.

Yes, the puppets and the shadowy reliefs didn’t work, wrappers rustled all night but for the audience, those teenagers, for whom everything is important and meaningful, I think this production worked, …… just!

Cynicism is a luxury of the old. Pain, betrayal, revelation, learning, the necessities of youth.  Perhaps I do wish I was still there and could enjoy this play as the young in the audience, no doubt enjoyed it. Sometimes we ‘oldies’ have to realise that this piece isn’t talking to us and perhaps is so much the better for it. And so to all the parents out there – treat your young ones to this slice of theatre, they’ll enjoy it. You may enjoy fish and chips on the way home.

Written by Paul Tyree