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A Day in the Death of Joe Egg
by Peter Nichols
Directed by Matt Aston
Nottingham Playhouse
March / April 2010


Bri and Sheila are the young parents of a disabled child (nicknamed Joe Egg) living by the rule of
'if you don't laugh you'll cry'. Bri is a born comedian and has no problem creating an imaginary
world around the child, giving her a series of comic personality traits and conducting fictional
conversations. To the outside world, the couple seem the very model of bravery in the face of
adversity.

When two unwanted guests begin to question the family's cosy arrangement, the darkness beneath
their comic facade becomes all too clear.

" ... the sort of excellent production we've come to expect from director Matt Aston ..."
[Nottingham Evening Post]

" ... brilliantly revived ..." [The Telegraph]
 
 
'The Retirement of Tom Stevens' (Lakeside Arts Centre)
 
 
The Telegraph
****


A few months ago Panorama investigated the appalling physical and verbal abuse that many
disabled people encounter in this country. Even if you missed the programme, the case of
David Askew, the man with learning difficulties “tormented to death” by generations of local
youths, has brought into painful focus the society we’re living in now, in which, despite -
or perhaps because of - decades of political correctness, the most basic compassion for the
less fortunate appears to be ebbing away.

Why bring up this subject? Because Peter Nichols’ 1967 play A Day in the Death of Joe Egg,
brilliantly revived at the Nottingham Playhouse, places at its centre a young girl who was
starved of oxygen at birth and suffered intensive brain-damage. Josephine, or “Joe Egg”
as her two worn, overwhelmed parents affectionately but also slightly teasingly call her,
no longer displays even the slightest signs of knowing where or who she is. In Matt Aston’s
production, Finn Atkins’s drooling, often moaning, more-dead-than-alive Joe, pushed on
and off in a wheelchair, lolls her head at a violent angle and goes into sudden spasms and
awful convulsions.


If Nichols, who drew on first-hand experience with his own first-born child, were writing this
today, it’s possible he’d be forced to add anti-social behaviour to the stresses facing saggy,
frustrated Bristol school-teacher Bri and his doting, decent wife Sheila. What’s more, the piece
depends on an audience grasping that the mocking, apparently insensitive humour deployed
by Joe’s nearest and dearest, who break through the theatrical “fourth wall” to replay key
episodes and relay innermost thoughts, is an ultimately self-defeating means of deflecting
the heart-ache within. Nichols aspires to make us laugh in awkward relief, not in outright
contempt. Nowadays, when a household name like Ricky Gervais can mock the afflicted in
his stand-up sets to little outrage, do such distinctions still hold?

Although the time feels ripe for a more up-to-date look at the subject, there’s little faulting the
show as is. Laura McEwen’s glorious design, combining strange picturebook touches with retro
period details, allows the cast to descend from the stage down backlit steps like old-style cabaret
stars. Strongly supported by the four other cast-members, Amy Robbins and Mark Benton deliver
plausible and ineffably touching central performances as the barely coping couple who find it
easier to confide in us than in each other. Recommended - even if you can’t quite say it’s as
relevant as ever.

[Dominic Cavendish]
 
 
The Guardian
****


There's a telling exchange in Peter Nichols's diaries in which Trevor Nunn, then director of the
Royal Shakespeare Company, tells the author: "Joe Egg – what a play, why didn't you show it
to us first?" To which Nichols replies: "I did. You didn't even send a reply."


More than 40 years on you wonder, if the play were sent out today, whether Joe Egg would still
seem too much of a hot potato for most producers, given that jokes about invalids can still provoke
furious headlines and the ethical debate about euthanasia has not moved on much from the 1960s.

Today, the barely cognisant Joe Egg would be classified as having severe learning difficulties,
while her harassed father works in an unruly Bristol comprehensive where he experiences
extreme teaching difficulties. His opening command that everyone settle down and put their
hands on their heads comes so unexpectedly that one or two members of the audience comply.

Shock tactics are characteristic of a play that smashes through the fourth wall and the boundaries
of good taste. Yet, the illicit skits and parodic role-play engaged in by Joe's parents suggest a couple
so ensnared in an elaborate self-defence mechanism, they've forgotten the code that might let them
out. Amy Robbins's Sheila is a picture of desperate fortitude, while nothing is off limits for the
mockery of Mark Benton's ebulliently infantile Brian.

[Alfred Hickling]

 
 
Nottingham Evening Post

A young couple - Bri's a failing teacher; Sheila's involved in am dram - have a daughter,
Josephine aka Joe, who's severely handicapped with cerebral palsy. This is an autobiographical
work by Peter Nichols and it's a fine one.

But not only is it a good play. It's well served by the sort of excellent production we've come
to expect from director Matt Aston, with splendid acting all round, an outstanding set and
credible background sound.

The only problem - but it's a big one - is that the play might be dated. Its message, thankfully,
no longer needs saying with the same urgency as it needed saying back in 1967. It's difficult
to be categorical here but it might just be that the point has already gone home.

It's an interesting narrative technique. Over a few eventful hours at Christmas time the characters
step out of the main action to use the audience as a sounding board and to re-enact scenes from
their past. The play examines attitudes to, and the nature of, disability, questions surrounding
euthanasia and the whole area of sick language and humour.

There are good performances from the two leads, Mark Benton and Amy Robbins, particularly
the latter. She's dark, practical and strong; he's all scruffy hair, elbow pads, tweeds and corduroys.

Tim Dantay, last seen in Nottingham as D H Lawrence in Empty Bed Blues, is excellent as Freddie,
with a speech impediment. As Joe, Finn Atkins is completely realistic.

It happens on a skewed and cluttered, sixties living room set with an even more skewed skylight
above - all is not right. And we're given a solidly sixties sound in the background.

It seems a curious error of taste as well as internal logic to have Joe announcing the interval,
but it's an unusual evening's theatre at various levels.

[Alan Geary]

 
 

Left Lion

Peter Nichols' play depicts a couple caring for their severely disabled daughter, Josephine. The guilt
and sadness they feel about Joe's condition and the difficulty of caring for her place a heavy burden
on their marriage. We learn of the variety of reactions to Joe from friends and professionals ranging
from incompetence and badly conceived advice through to indifference and repulsion.

In order to cope they invent wacky personalities for her and imagine her having a glittering future
ahead of her. Sheila tries to make the most of things and to have a life outside the home. Brian has a
very dark sense of humour which he uses to taunt and bully his wife, mostly for his own amusement.
His feelings about Joe are conflicted. On the one hand, he is very caring and solicitous of her
well-being but also he resents the fact that his life and marriage have been ruined and wishes
to place Joe into a home. He also fantasises about killing her and it is ambiguous whether this
is for her sake or for his.

Playing Joe aged ten is the impish Finn Atkins (unbelievably, 20 years old), whom you might
remember from Shane Meadows' film Once Upon a Time in the Midlands. Staging a play where
an adult plays a disabled child and jokes about the tragic situation is fraught with pitfalls and
offers an uncomfortable experience for the audience but luckily Matt Aston, who has had so
many directorial successes at the Lakeside Arts Centre, has done excellent job.

Nichols wrote several comic plays which, like this one, are about serious subjects. He is writing
from experience as his own first child was born with brain damage and died aged ten. Although
created in the 1960s, the black comedy in this play is still quite edgy. Brian's cruel sense of
humour and mind games are performed excellently by Mark Benton, a comic actor best known
for playing Howard in Northern Lights. Another Nichols trait is the way the characters step out
of the scene to talk directly to the audience, driving a truck through the suspension of disbelief
that is normally expected of an audience. This can be quite jarring but here it allows the
characters to speak their minds and keeps the audience's attention focused on the issues.

Personally, I've been a fan of Peter Nichols since I saw a production of Poppy, a pantomime
about the Opium Wars, at the Lace Market many years ago. It is great to see his work being
performed and for this play, which is still relevant more than forty years on, to be revived.

[Adrian Baghat]



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