Don’t be a duffer – go see it.
You know when you get hired to be a sass-talking foreigner writing culture reviews that tend to take the (ever-so-gentle) piss out of your readers, but then you go to see a show and it’s just so wonderful that there’s really no piss-taking to be done? You guys have all had that experience, right? Surely I’m not the only one?
Oh. I am. Okay. I guess I’ll have to just put on my nice-person pants and give a straight-lace review.
I took my daughter and one of her friends to see Swallows and Amazons at the York Theatre Royal, and it was, quite simply put, a brilliant evening of being swept away into another era. Yes, it was an era where parents let their seven, nine, ten and 12-year-olds take a who-knows-how-lake-worthy sailboat to spend several nights alone on an island. If anything, that kind of completely out-of-reach adventure made it all the more magical for the kids in the audience. And don’t think I’m saying that the Walker parents were bad parents – I envy them the more innocent time (in regards to child rearing and community, not in regards to living in post-WWI Britain, with the second world war looming on the horizon) where children could wander through forests, lakeshores and villages as little bands of wildling explorers.
Parents today live in a haze of fear. Fear that drivers racing through their neighbourhoods won’t see their child when they’re crossing what should be a nice quiet road on their way to school. Fear that letting them play on their own in a park might make them the target of a paedo. Fear of the internet – more paedos, or sickos who like to add disturbing content into the middle of a video that seems meant for children, or questionable ‘marketing’ content that teaches children to hate their bodies and feel dissatisfied with their lives. Fear of the world, because global media means that hate can spread as easily as knowledge.
I don’t want to parent in fear. I want my kid to be part of a happy wildling gang and wander the forests and lakeshores with daisy-chain crowns and cardboard swords. I want my kid to be an Amazon. Well, she wants to be a Swallow – Titty, to be precise, and I’m okay with that choice because, as we learned during the play, she is a brave and ingenious little fighter. But I personally fell in love with the portrayal of Nancy and Peggy, the bickering, fierce Amazons of the titular fame.
I’m getting ahead of myself. Getting wrapped up in nostalgia for a simpler time. But in the end, isn’t that the appeal of Arthur Ransome’s Swallows and Amazons series? (Did you know there are twelve books in the series? We’re finally, after nearly one and a half years, about to finish the Harry Potter series as our bedtime reading, and the kid is beyond thrilled to have a new (old) series waiting for us!) Nostalgia has a hold over us, especially one that’s just beyond our reach, one that we can imagine, or even remember. It’s certainly what held the adults in the audience.
The play was an astonishing feat of performance and stagecraft. Nearly the entire cast is on stage at all times, either telling the story, or hovering just beyond the focus of the scene, playing any number of instruments. When I say any number, I mean that the cast essentially doubled as a full orchestra. There were woodwinds (not just the easy ones, but an oboe and saxophone!), brass, strings and piano. And, oh, right, it was a musical, (obviously didn’t do my research ahead of time – I really shouldn’t have been surprised by that fact!) so let’s not forget the choral “instruments”. The set itself is sparse but incredibly versatile, evolving from dock to lake to island and back again several times with a very simple manipulation of parts and perspective. This choice of uncluttered stage both underscores the quality of life at the time, and allows the audience to use their imagination to fill in the gaps and follow the cast through the weaving of their tale.
All the roles are played by adults, which took some adjustment for my grown-up brain, but the kids seemed to buy it just fine. We all had a laugh that the biggest guy on stage played the youngest child, but to be fair, his portrayal of Roger had the physicality and intonation of the overly brave seven-year-olds we’ve all had in our lives. John and Susan are appropriately sensible and stoic, wobbling on the edge of adulthood (as one did at ten and 12 back in the day) with one toe still firmly in the land of childish delights. This feminist mama was most impressed that Ransome had written such strong female characters into his books, and yes, I know the Swallows were based on his own family, but the Amazons are from his imagination, so he really does deserve a nod for that, as do the women playing the fierce creatures. My kid can join Nancy, Peggy and Titty’s gang anytime, with not only my permission but my insistence.
The adult characters – Mother, Captain Flint, Farmer, the charcoal burners, the thieves, and the angry, somewhat bumbling policeman, are all stand-out portrayals but who also fade back into the band when they are no longer part of the main storyline – much like we adults must feature in the minds of our children when they’re off on their own adventures.
The play is, simply put, an exceptional weaving of childhood fantasy, storytelling, acting, and the limitations (or freedoms) of stagecraft. My daughter and her friend gave it “all the thumbs up” and I couldn’t agree more. So that’s six thumbs, and twelve if you count our big toes, which they insisted I do. Because why not?
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