Review
The Trials of Life: a comedy revueThe Country Neighbour
If you were feeling glum at the end of April, the Basildonians’ ‘The Trials of Life’ was a wonderful antidote. The Basildonians’ expert comic skills hit the spot and caused plenty of laughter, the meal was terrific, the bar great—and, as usual, there was free parking at the Village Hall! The evening consisted of a series of skits satirizing some of the ordinary ‘trials of life’ that afflict us all, as well as some less ordinary ones.
The highlight of the evening for me was Rhys Hamilton’s attempt to download a ‘sexy’ screensaver. I am sure this task is not one of the ‘ordinary’ trials of life for many of us, but we can all relate to the absurd so-called ‘help’ instructions that accompany computer applications. Rhys Hamilton’s facial expressions and body language registered his increasing frustration as he was asked to ‘plug cable x into outlet y, making an extra hole if necessary’ and to ‘call Mumbai’ when (of course) he had neither the required ‘verification number’ or ‘certificate user number’. The final request asking for ‘name, address and sex offender register number’ was hilarious.
Liz Reed also stole the show as the car rental agent in a skit where the hapless driver was offered a series of incentives to purchase additional insurance (‘a free set of curling tongs’); Adam Nightingale and Nicola Stillwell were brilliant trying to self-assemble an item of furniture (‘put locking bar A into bracket B’); Mike Powell was very good as the father trying to maintain some control over the internet shopping habits of his wife (Liz Reed) and daughter (Claire Leroy), and Sandra Wilkinson established a feeling of sympathy as she went over her faults while ironing (‘If I’m not busy doing something wrong, then I’m busy going over what I’ve done wrong, and that’s being self-centered!’) .
Other successful skits had a go at cocktail party one-upmanship (‘How’s that wife of yours? Still doing acupuncture?’ ‘No, she’s off gun-running in Afghanistan’), political correctness, marital bickering (Philip Morgan and Kate Morgan were solid in two skits) and hiring the wrong decorator to paint a porch—‘I’ve done the Porsche as you said, but left the BMW’.
There were also various less ordinary trials: a sinking cruise liner and a wife overboard (‘I expect she’ll bob up somewhere. She’s always very buoyant’), a duel, and a hilarious appendectomy by the Great Zucchini (Rhys Hamilton again). Jane Westermann’s cameo performance as an paranoid interviewee, and Gill Reid’s Joyce Grenfell-inspired instructions to children were also spot on.
It was terrific to see so many new actors on stage, as well as the more experienced. A notable debut was made by Richard Church, whose laid-back comic timing was perfect—I’m sure we all hope to see more of him in future.
Another intriguing newcomer was Aleksandr Orlov, the aristocratic meerkat of tv advert fame, who acted as compère for the evening (compère the meerkat?). Being of a shy nature, the meerkat only appeared once and then scuttled off and we only heard his voice over a tannoy. I personally would have liked to have seen more of this mysterious meerkat onstage.
The producers, Nick Thorowgood and Jane Westermann (with additional direction from Gill Reid), must be congratulated for a splendid production, and thanks also go to Willem Westermann and his team for the catering (Hazel Powell, Vicky Hamilton and Gill Paterson were great waitresses). The evening simply couldn’t happen without Mike Baker’s expertise in lighting, sound and visuals, set design and construction, or his hard work leading the bar team. Thanks also to Belinda Baker for stage management and Sue Thorowgood for costumes. If you didn’t come, you missed a treat!
Myra Cottingham