Lorna Irvine gives high praises to the latest offering at A Play, a Pie and a Pint.
Bookending Peter Arnott's wonderful play, directed by Cora Bissett, is the genuine voice of the one and only Janis Joplin, the throaty, flamboyant singer who was the face of blues rock and whose hard-drinking and drugging lifestyle killed her at just twenty seven. Arnott's play is structured like a gig, with biographical monologues peppered throughout. The simplicity of this approach works, following the performer from stage to dressing room.
Angie Darcy, while not in possession of the grit and crack in Joplin's voice, is still a fantastic singer and has the mannerisms and swagger of her down beautifully—as well as the filthy laugh, of course. She owns the stage, and it feels like a sweaty free festival somewhere in the US in the 60s. Her backing band are smokin' hot and look like the classic Holding Company line-up from the Cheap Thrills days. Ball and Chain still sounds vital and Mercedes Benz, a cappella on recording, is fleshed out with the full band.
Yet gnawing away at Joplin is classic female insecurity, instilled in her by an overbearing Texan Mom and the classmates who picked on her for her bad skin, love of “nigger music” and plump figure. “I feel like I need to grow another skin, man,” she drawls, to no one in particular. “Momma told me to tell lies, to smile, to disappear. I can't lie, man... I'm just myself...that's why I got nowhere!”
She instead hides in Pearl, a more confident character who her classic album was named after, a sexually voracious and gobby woman, slugging from bottles of Jack Daniels and even flirting with the young hotel receptionist (Samuel Keefe). One of her musicians (Harry Ward) says that Pearl is taking over, that Janis is no more, a ‘camera' speaking as though she is always reciting from some unseen script: the end's coming.
Some songs are conspicuous by their absence, such as Cry Baby, Move Over or the sexy, psych-tinged cover of Summertime, and the ending may be a little too unsubtle, but in the main it is a moving tribute to the power and vulnerability alike of the shy, awkward girl from the South with the big dirty mouth.
Performs at Oran Mor until November 16.
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