Janice Jones and Culaan Smyth. Photo Credit Strat Mastoris
Simon Jenner, November 8th 2024
A world premiere of a play over 50 years old is a first for any small company. It’s certainly a first for New Venture Theatre Brighton where director Rod Lewis in the 1970s discovered a then relatively new but unperformed play by dramatist and (mostly) novelist Mary Melwood (the writing pseudonym of F.M. Lewis). Mixie dates from 1971. Directed by Lewis it now premieres at NVT Studio till November 16th.
Inflected as Lewis suggests by Beckett and Ionesco, it’s nevertheless a prescient realist piece where what’s happening is eerily suggested by the slow realisation of just how old Tom Bick (Culann Smyth) and Mrs Bick (Janice Jones) are.
And early on it’s destabilised by Jones playing slightly cruel games with Smyth’s Tom: coming at him unawares as he lays a breakfast for one (to her irritation), hiding his dentures, making him seek them in a “warmer… colder” game ending when he gives up. She suggests she’s a rather kinetic ghost: that’s played with for some time. “I’m D” she often intones. They both hear a voice from the Id: “Mixie” it breathes. Pat Boxall provides Mixie’s voice spookily treated and realised in Alistair Locke’s sound design. Tom is enraptured. His wife wants to take a hammer to the minx. Smyth and Jones are as playful here as they’re shrunk when confronted by others.
Culaan Smyth and Janice Jones. Photo Credit Strat Mastoris
Judith Berrill’s minimal though realist set (like her Picnic at Hanging Rock) invokes an old house unvisited by the decades. Blue-grey wallpaper mildews with green (shout out to the building team listed below), bookshelf and Studio corner are lovingly detailed with table, chair, rocking chair and household clutter, with two doors. Sabrina Giles’ pastel lighting phases to indigo at one point as well as a glare of emerald and later red, with gulphs of darkness.
Mixie moves dreamily along with touches of playful cruelty till the Noisy Woman (Justine Smith), and the Noisy Woman’s daughter the Girl (Joanna Joy Salter) arrive. Smyth and Jones remain silent throughout.
Salter’s headphone-wearing character might want to escape her mother’s scolding rant more than any youthful obliviousness. Salter’s character tries to engage: she picks up a book (Smith tells her it’s infected); at a late point offers a chocolate Mrs Bick bats away; to Smith’s derision.
Smith’s cleaner/carer cleans up something nasty we’ve seen occur, bitterly lays into the couple. Smith inflects cruelty perhaps someone related – feeling shackled – might bring; though expresses no kinship. Relations remain mysterious.
Joanna Joy Salter, Justine Smith and Janice Jones Photo Credit Strat Mastoris
Later Smith returns as Tea Woman in a fantastically-lit Mayor’s procession; with Salter as Welfare Woman in the same parade. They’re joined in the garishly costumed ambush by The Mayor (Richi Blennerhassett), The Mayor’s Assistant (Ben Pritchard) The Reporter (Guy Dixon). There’s a placard telling us much and they vanish.
Neither Mrs Bick nor it seems Mixie are going anywhere: which due to an incident earlier the couple had been convinced was otherwise. There’s a denouement.
At one level Mixie repurposes absurdism as a realist study in dementia. Though it’s not as straightforward: there’s sudden avenues. One one side David Storey’s 1970 Home beckons. On another a contemporary dramatist like Alistair McDowall.
Clearly a seven-hander lasting 60 minutes with three silent roles and two others only slightly involved, Mixie isn’t a frequent proposition. Even as a double-bill with a richer-characterised companion, the set’s too specific. It could be managed.
Joanna Joy Salter, Justine Smith and Janice Jones. Photo Credit Strat Mastoris
Had Mixie been performed, people might have suggested an influence on Caryl Churchill: who could have read it before her first stage-play in 1972. Melwood as well as Churchill were part of an absurdist tradition then flourishing, including James Saunders (particularly his 1963 hit Next Time I’ll Sing to You) and N. F. Simpson.
Melwood’s known for adapting adult theatricality to children’s stories in a quartet of plays. Their sashaying round nightmare is touched on in all Melwood realises here. If Churchill, our greatest living playwright emerges as the giant, Melwood adds a distinct contribution to the genre, whose sinister playfulness has lain undetected for over 50 years. A revelatory premiere, consummately realised by Lewis’s team.
Janice Jones and Culaan Smyth Photo Credit Strat Mastoris
Written by Mary Melwood, Directed by Rod Lewis, Assistant Director Bryony Weaver, Mayor’s Group Choreographer Ulrike Schilling, Production Manager Gaby Bowring, Stage Manager Ayshen Irfan
Set Design Judith Berrill, Set Construction & Painting Simon Glazier, George Walter, Dan Tranter, Chris Tew, Tomasz Baraniecki, Charly Sommers, Bobby Grafe & Andy Hind, Set Painting Simon Glazier, Charly Sommers
Lighting Design Sabrina Giles, Lighting Rigging Sabrina Giles, Ewan Cassidy & Chris Dent
Lighting Operation Sabrina Giles & Tamsin Mastoris
Sound Design Alistair Locke
Sound Operation Cameron Davies & Ollie Wilson
Costume The Cast, Hair & Make-Up Richi Blennerhassett
Props Ayshen Irfan, Bryony Weaver, Lisa Howes, Ian Black, Gladrags
Poster Strat & Tamsin Mastoris, Programme Tamsin Mastoris
Publicity/Headshot Photography Strat Mastoris,
Publicity & Social Media Greg Donaldson
Health and Safety Ian Black.
Many thanks to Katie Brownings, Barry Purchease, Roy Riggs, Bill Griffiths, Lisa Howes of Homemade by Mrs Howes for the banner, Bridgett-Ane Goddard for rehearsal space, Wick Theatre Company, Gladrags and Box Office FOH and Volunteers
Culaan Smyth and Janice Jones . Photo Credit Strat Mastoris