Lorna Irvine reviews 'Molly Taylor's wee gem' at this week's A Play, a Pie and a Pint.
In the wake of the recent Luis "I haven't had my dinner'' Suarez incident, the so-called 'beautiful game' finds itself in a difficult position—not looking so good at the moment. Perhaps Molly Taylor's wee gem can redress the balance.
This semi-autobiographical piece is a thing of joy, articulating the guttural roar of 50,000 football supporters in a stadium. The writing is flawless; there's not a wasted line in it. Taylor herself plays Mol, a pretty, likeable tomboy whose passion for footie was fanned by her Dad (a touching Benny Young) when he took her to her first match aged nine.
What unfolds is more than mere knockabout stuff. Sure, there is humour, pathos and the irrational pleasure and pain of extreme fandom, but this is an engaging, wise and witty portrait of what it is to live in the moment, of masculinity, femininity and camaraderie, working-class dreams and left-wing polemic while observing the left-wingers. It is, above all, a touching tribute to family bonding. ''Football is a pastime and a punchline', says Mol.
'It's an apotheosis…like Greek drama- it's theatre'', counters her philosophical father.
Patrick McGurn and Jonathan Scott's set, where the pair yell out to myopic refs, is fun: Astroturf festooned with Barbie dolls, Subbuteo kit (with players, of course) and an old-fashioned red plastic tape player—a neat summary of the 80s when Dickie Davies twinkled appealingly on our TV screens and managers weren't so concerned with making multi-millionaires out of their star players. Innocent days.
Catrin Evans provides frenetic direction, with Michael Ryan as the archetypal Scouse Lad popping up in the back to heckle the impassioned duo before he joins them to argue about urban myths and the etymology of anthems. His more sensitive side is revealed in a touching monologue to the song that defined a generation and which became the hymn to the Hillsborough victims: You'll Never Walk Alone.
Underneath the terrace chants, Taylor suggests, lies a bigger song—one of life, in all its complicated, messy glory. We may not yet know all the lyrics, but we can sure as hell improvise.
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