A brave piece
Lynn Freeman
Lullaby Jock, Directed by Tim Spite, Downstage Theatre, Reviewed by Lynn Freeman.
ONE of the great sadnesses in families is when children don’t get to know about their parents when they were young and full of ideals and promise.
As kids we can be so judgemental, not understanding what events have shaped our parents. At the same time it’s a brave thing to do, to literally put yourself in your father’s shoes.
Simon Ferry uses his father’s story in a solo show, examining the effect of the war on Jock and the loss of one of his nine children. Jock was a great teacher, singer and mate, a family man and an alcoholic.
This is a cleverly structured piece of theatre, with clues dropped here and there of some of the big events before we are let in on them.
At times Jock talks to Simon, his youngest son and the one most like him, and challenges him about revealing so much about his and the family’s personal details.
Jock encourages his boy to stick to the funny stories, and there are plenty of them. Jock has a point.
In the programme director Tim Spite points out that some other people’s stories have been woven into the Ferry family tales as soon on stage, and that’s fair enough.
You sense though that the bulk of this is true and Jock faithfully portrayed, weaknesses and all. He was a good man, one of so many left damaged by wartime experiences.
The central set motif, a plain coffin, is ingeniously used as a door, motorbike, trench, even a piano.
The backdrop of stacked beer and gin bottles a testament to a man who liked and needed his liquor.
The timeline is fractured and you have to keep your wits about you to keep up. There’s nothing wrong with that, in fact it’s one of the most satisfying things about solo theatre when it’s done well, as this is.
Ferry delivers a perfectly pitched and heart-felt (without being over sentimentalised) performance, revelling in the different characters and Tim Spite’s direction is wonderfully playful and surefooted.
ONE of the great sadnesses in families is when children don’t get to know about their parents when they were young and full of ideals and promise.
As kids we can be so judgemental, not understanding what events have shaped our parents. At the same time it’s a brave thing to do, to literally put yourself in your father’s shoes.
Simon Ferry uses his father’s story in a solo show, examining the effect of the war on Jock and the loss of one of his nine children. Jock was a great teacher, singer and mate, a family man and an alcoholic.
This is a cleverly structured piece of theatre, with clues dropped here and there of some of the big events before we are let in on them.
At times Jock talks to Simon, his youngest son and the one most like him, and challenges him about revealing so much about his and the family’s personal details.
Jock encourages his boy to stick to the funny stories, and there are plenty of them. Jock has a point.
In the programme director Tim Spite points out that some other people’s stories have been woven into the Ferry family tales as soon on stage, and that’s fair enough.
You sense though that the bulk of this is true and Jock faithfully portrayed, weaknesses and all. He was a good man, one of so many left damaged by wartime experiences.
The central set motif, a plain coffin, is ingeniously used as a door, motorbike, trench, even a piano.
The backdrop of stacked beer and gin bottles a testament to a man who liked and needed his liquor.
The timeline is fractured and you have to keep your wits about you to keep up. There’s nothing wrong with that, in fact it’s one of the most satisfying things about solo theatre when it’s done well, as this is.
Ferry delivers a perfectly pitched and heart-felt (without being over sentimentalised) performance, revelling in the different characters and Tim Spite’s direction is wonderfully playful and surefooted.
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