Review: The Ballad of Maria Marten (Eastern Angles)

Thursday 23rd September 2021
The Lowry, Salford

Although September has been dominated by the Greater Manchester Fringe for me, I’ve also had the opportunity to see some non-Fringe theatre this month. On Thursday 23rd September, I was at The Lowry in Salford to see The Ballad of Maria Marten by Eastern Angles. I’ll be reviewing this production for Hannah’s Bookshelf, my weekly literature show on North Manchester FM, on Saturday 2nd October, but here’s the blog version…

Written by Beth Flintoff and first performed in 2018, The Ballad of Maria Marten is the story of a notorious and gruesome murder that took place in Suffolk in 1827. Except that it isn’t. And that’s what makes this play special.

The murder of Maria Marten by William Corder sparked a media frenzy at the time, and the case was almost instantly immortalized in ballads, broadsheets, popular theatre and – later – film dramatizations. The grisly nature of the victim’s injuries, the fact that her body lay undiscovered for a year after her death, and the infamous treatment of her killer’s body after his execution, was a gift for sensationalizers. Over the years, writers have devoted their attention to William Corder’s character, suggesting various possible motives for his crimes, and to suggesting alternative theories that might throw doubt on his guilt (despite his confession). There have also been some sustained efforts to imply some culpability on the part of the victim: Maria’s three illegitimate children have been used as evidence of her ‘loose’ character, and her lower class status has equally been a talking-point in some accounts of the case.

The Ballad of Maria Marten stands as a powerful – and timely – corrective to this tradition of presenting the case known as the Red Barn Murder. It is explicitly not the story of William Corder’s crime, but rather the story of Maria Marten’s life.

Photo credit: Tony Bartholomew

The play begins with the rather unsettling entrance of a spectral Maria Marten (played by Elizabeth Crarer) walking onto the stage in the tattered remnants of the clothes she was wearing when she was buried. She holds a ragged umbrella over one shoulder, and the injuries she sustained before her death are brutally visible on her face and neck. Maria addresses the audience – as she will do a number of times during the show – confronting our expectations and questioning how much we think we know about her. She talks about her own death and the nature of the injuries she sustained, but she refers to her killer only as ‘he’ and ‘him’. There is no direct evocation of William Corder at this point of the story.

What follows this entrance really sets the tone of the rest of the production. I’ll confess that I was expecting to get a lump in my throat at the end of the play, so the fact that I was welling up at the beginning was a bit of a surprise.

A group of women, singing softly, surround the spectral Maria and remove the tattered clothing. Bringing bowls and cloths, they wipe off the marks of her injuries, and then tidy her hair and redress her in fresh clothes. According to the programme, Flintoff’s original notes in the script state that these women ‘unmurder’ Maria, and this is exactly how I experienced the scene. It’s a dramatic and empowering sequence, but it is also one weighty with sadness due our knowledge that Maria was murdered. Whatever we see on stage from this moment, Maria’s ending is in part already written.

Photo credit: Tony Bartholomew

The play is about Maria’s life as a young working-class woman in Polstead, Suffolk in the 1820s, beginning when she is ten years old. In the first act, we meet Maria’s friends: Phoebe (played by Jessica Dives), Theresa (Bethan Nash), confident Sarah (Lydia Bakelmun) and awkward outsider Lucy (Susie Barrett), with whom she dreams of being as bold and adventurous as men are allowed to be. We also meet Maria’s new stepmother, Ann (played by Sarah Goddard), who is young and nervy, but determined to be a good friend to her newly acquired family. Ann’s arrival is told with humour and warmth, but it also serves as a stark reminder of social context. While we might giggle a little at Ann’s clumsy attempts to befriend Maria, she also articulates a very real fear of rejection. If Maria doesn’t accept Ann, then her father might decide not to marry after all. She has nowhere else to go if he ends their engagement, and she fears the workhouse might be her only option. For all their boldness and camaraderie, the women in this world are entirely reliant on the whims of men.

Nevertheless, Maria’s life plays out for us with verve, humour and hope. The performances are excellent. Crarer is captivating as Maria, capturing her youthful ambitions and aspirations, but tempering this with an edge of confrontation as she breaks the fourth wall and reminds us of what will happen to her when she’s just twenty-five years old. Goddard’s performance as Ann is also very striking. Her depiction of Ann matures before our eyes, from the nervous new stepmother to a solid and constant presence in Maria’s life. Goddard brings to life a good and kind woman who deals with life’s hardships as best she can, until bringing us to a heart-breaking first act finale with raw and visceral emotional depth.

While it’s easy to see the other characters as foils to Maria – images of alternative models of working-class womanhood in distinction to Maria’s own path – the actors bring depth and humanity to their performances that creates more of an ensemble feel. In addition to playing Maria’s friends, some of the actors double up on parts. Bakelmun plays the lusty and worldly-wise Sarah, but also appears as Lady Cooke, a member of the gentry who takes a shine to Maria and serves to remind us that sometimes it is hard to be a woman, even when your family owns most of the village’s land.

The play has an entirely female cast – a deliberate creative choice – but some male characters appear. The fathers of two of Maria’s children, Thomas Corder and Peter Matthews, are played by Barrett and Nash respectively. Barrett brings Thomas Corder to life as a young and arrogant man who enjoys lording his elevated status as a farmer’s son over the labouring classes. However, Barrett also gives him some humanity, and the emphasis on his youth means that we never truly hate him – we just don’t feel he deserves the respect of a woman like Maria. Nash has the unenviable task of performing the closest thing the play has to a ‘good man’, and her portrayal of Peter Matthews has a softness bordering on tragedy.

As noted, no one plays William Corder. This character ‘appears’ towards the end of the first act, and is central to the developments of the second, but he never appears on stage. We learn of his character from the reports of others, and we learn of his actions by seeing the devastating effects they have on Maria.

Photo credit: Tony Bartholomew

The actors offer us performances steeped in humanity and empathy, and the script gives us a solid balance between engaging humour and brutal truths. But the production’s energy and vitality is the result of a strong creative team. The single set (set construction by Dominic Eddington and scenic art by Caitriona Penny) – dominated throughout by the façade of the barn in which Maria’s body was hidden – works well, as it is seamlessly transformed into Maria’s cottage, a village fair, the drawing room of Lady Cooke, and various locations around Polstead. Costumes and wardrobe by Faby Pym are also well-designed and put to powerful use. In addition to the dressing and undressing scenes we see on-stage (following the initial ‘unmurdering’ sequence, there are a number of other moments in which Maria is recostumed by women in front of our eyes), the quick changes required by the actors doubling on parts is quite amazing. I swear there were times when I was convinced I’d seen Sarah and Lady Cooke, or Lucy and Thomas Corder, on stage at the same time, despite the fact that the characters’ costumes were distinctively and elaborately different! All credit to Hal Chambers’s direction for pulling off this effect.

It has to be said, however, that it is the play’s ending that will really stick with audiences. As I’ve said, this isn’t the story of the murder of Maria Marten or the trial and execution of William Corder in the usual sense. It ends, then, not with Corder at the gallows, but with the burning of the so-called ‘Red Barn’ (the building that has dominated the production’s backdrop, that Maria has constantly reminded us was the scene of her demise, that has become a byname for the case itself, and that the programme and marketing material has shown engulfed in flames). Following the execution of William Corder, this building became a dark tourist attraction in Polstead for a time, before it was burnt down, presumably by irritated locals. The Ballad of Maria Marten transforms this historical moment into a powerful summation of the play’s central message, ‘unmurdering’ Maria as surely as the re-dressing sequence at the beginning of the first act. I defy anyone not to shed a few tears as the smoke begins to rise.

The Ballad of Maria Marten is a stunning piece of theatre. It is timely in its message – the programme notes the murder of Sarah Everard as an example of why Maria’s story continues to be relevant, and I was chillingly aware of Sabina Nessa’s murder while watching, which occurred just six days before the show’s press night at The Lowry, but the production was also informed by creative workshops with survivors of domestic violence and abuse, and its depiction of gaslighting and coercive control is truly unsettling in the way it feels both startlingly modern and convincingly historic at the same time.

You may be wondering whether you should go and see The Ballad of Maria Marten if you are unfamiliar with the Red Barn Murder case. Or, conversely, you may be wondering if there’s any point in going to see it if you feel you already know everything there is to know about William Corder, his crime and his execution. In both cases – or even if, like I was, you’re somewhere between the two – this is a strong recommendation. This is a play that is more ‘true life’ than ‘true crime’, with compelling performances, a thought-provoking script, and excellent production and direction, and it’s definitely worth checking out.

The Ballad of Maria Marten was on at The Lowry, Salford as part of a national tour. For more information about upcoming performances, please visit the show’s website.

Review of Feeling Haunted (Psycho Garbage, GM Fringe)

Sunday 19th September 2021
Chapeltown Picture House, Cheetham Hill

The Greater Manchester Fringe Festival is on at multiple venues across the region throughout September. I’m reviewing a selection of the shows for this blog and for North Manchester FM. The next show I saw was Feeling Haunted by emerging theatre company Psycho Garbage, which was on at the Chapeltown Picture House in Cheetham Hill on Sunday 19th September. My radio review of this production will be broadcast on Tuesday’s Hannah’s Bookshelf GM Fringe Reviews Special, but here’s the blog version…

Before I start on the review of the show, I’d just like to mention the venue. This was my first visit to the Chapeltown Picture House, and it certainly won’t be my last. Chapeltown Picture House is a cinema and performance space housed in Grub in the Redbank area of Cheetham Hill. Although I’ve passed Grub a few times, I’ve never been in. I had no idea it was such a big place, or that it was home to such an incredible cinema/theatre space. The venue has a great atmosphere, and it’s comfortable and spacious enough to let you relax and lose yourself in whatever you’re watching. I can’t wait to see a film there!

And so… onto Feeling Haunted…

The play is a spoof episode of a fictional TV show of the same name. It’s set up as a ‘lost episode’ being shown on the Horror Channel, but don’t let that mislead you. This is a comedy, rather than a horror.

Feeling Haunted (i.e. the fictional TV show) is a ghost-hunting show, hosted by David G. Hostmann (played by Dylan Hopkins) with his sidekick cameraman Terry F.Y. (played by Jacob Lee Normansell). I probably don’t need to explain the influences here, as Feeling Haunted is closely modelled on the material it spoofs, even down to the studio-based talking head interviews that punctuate the action.

This ‘lost episode’ sees the Feeling Haunted team responding to a case of ghostly activity at Oak House, a rambling old property owned by the elderly Darlene Sweetly (played by Leah Mulchay) who has a supply of Capri-Suns and a soft spot for David Hostmann. As appears to be the format of the show, the hosts call for assistance from psychic Galina Pakulska (played by Dominika Rak), and then things get a little bit silly.

There is a lot to like about Feeling Haunted. While the material they use is probably not the most original – there have been countless other spoofs of the ghost-hunter TV format, and the fake adverts that are included in the show are well-trodden territory (for instance, a parody of the Cillit Bang advert that was, always, beyond parody anyway), the company present it with an enjoyable verve and energy. Hopkins revels in his performance as a borderline-OTT trenchcoated American presenter, though he gets to reveal a little more of his Welsh roots when he doubles-up as one of the previous residents of the house that we see via intercut VT. And Normansell is charming – and surprisingly convincing – as the cameraman Terry, particularly with his ‘That’s what I’m talking about!’ catchphrase whenever paranormal activity is noted.

Mulchay carries much of the physical comedy in her performance of sometimes-sweet, sometimes worryingly lascivious elderly homeowner. Again, there’s an exuberance to the performance that is hard not to enjoy, but Mulchay will also give us an indication of her wider range later in show (and I’m not going to give any spoilers for that!).

I don’t know if this is a matter of personal taste, but I particularly enjoyed Rak’s turn as the flamboyant psychic Galina. She hams up the clichéd elements of the character to just the right extent, but also undercuts the stereotype with barbed asides, including a commentary on the running joke that Hostmann and Terry can’t pronounce her name correctly (in fact, they mangle it to the point of calling her ‘Garlic Bread’ and ‘Gar Gar Binks’ towards the end).

Although the set-up to the show is pretty straightforward, there’s also an ambition to the performance that is executed with style and flair. The use of pre-recorded video projected onto the Chapeltown Picture House’s cinema screen is well-done. The show’s opening credits are shown in this way, as are the spoof adverts I mentioned earlier. The interaction between the recorded segments and the live action on stage is smooth and assured, and it allows for more depth to both the comedy and the plot.

And there is a plot here – for all the silly shenanigans of spilt Capri-Sun and body-swapping séances – and it isn’t quite the plot you might be expecting. Those VT talking heads that I mentioned take on an additional resonance as the audience gradually realize that they are watching clues that will help them, alongside the Feeling Haunted team, solve the mystery of what is going on at Oak House.

That’s not to say that this a mystery in the Agatha Christie sense, but there is undoubtedly another, more animated, pop culture influence underlying the spooky daftness (or daft spookiness). I had a bit of a chuckle as it dawned on me where we were going, before a final line from one character (again, no spoilers) confirmed it all.

For a first play from a new company, Feeling Haunted has a confidence and ambition to it that is impressive. The use of the stage/screen space is both fun and compelling, and the gusto of the performances carries even the most groan-worthy of puns. It’s true that the material sometimes lacks originality, and some of the comedy takes the path well-travelled, but the format and story of Feeling Haunted allows this emerging company to show off what it can do, both in terms of comedic performance and also multi-media production. The pace and length of the piece is just right as well, giving us a taste – I hope – of what will come from Psycho Garbage as they develop and stretch their talents further.

(And, I should add… although some of the spoof adverts are pretty standard parody material, like a firm of personal injury lawyers or the aforementioned Cillit Bang, I really didn’t expect to see a take on the DFS adverts that was genuinely original and unlike any that I’ve seen before. So kudos to Psycho Garbage for managing to find something funny to say about DFS adverts that hasn’t been said before!)

Overall, this was an enjoyable and fun piece of theatre that plays it comedy with a heavy hand but evident skill. The Feeling Haunted programme describes itself as a ‘silly little show’, but I think the company are doing themselves down here. It might be silly, but it certainly doesn’t feel ‘little’. I look forward to seeing what Psycho Garbage do next.

Feeling Haunted was on at Chapeltown Picture House on Sunday 19th September, as part of the Greater Manchester Fringe. To see the full programme for this year’s Fringe, please visit the festival website.

Review: The Comedy of Errors / La Commedia degli Errori (The Blind Cupid Shakespeare Company, GM Fringe)

Wednesday 15th September 2021
GMF Digital Events

The Greater Manchester Fringe continues throughout September, and I’m continuing to review shows from this year’s programme on this blog and on North Manchester FM. Although most of the shows at this year’s festival are live and in-person, there is a selection of digital events as well. On Wednesday 15th September, I watched one of these digital productions: a bilingual English-Italian production of Shakespeare’s The Comedy of Errors (or La Commedia degli Errori) by The Blind Cupid Shakespeare Company. The radio version of my review will be going out on the Hannah’s Bookshelf GM Fringe Reviews Special on Tuesday 21st September, but here’s the blog version…

The Comedy of Errors is not one of Shakespeare’s best-known plays, and it’s not produced as regularly as some of his other plays. It’s one of Shakespeare’s earliest plays, and it’s shorter and more farcical than his later works. I have to admit, I had reservations about how this was going to work as a digital production. The comedy in The Comedy of Errors comes from an increasingly frenetic double mistaken identity plot, involving two sets of identical twins and a large amount of slapstick. I wasn’t sure whether it would be possible to do justice to this on a Zoom-style digital performance.

I think I probably should have had more faith in The Blind Cupid Shakespeare Company!

The performance begins with the cast and crew assembling on a video chat in preparation to travel to the US for a performance. However, last-minute Covid restrictions mean that they aren’t going to be able to travel after all – the show will have to go online.

It’s a nice little introduction, setting the scene for a production that will be entirely online with the performers acting their parts in separation. Admittedly – and this is a really strange thing to say! – but a couple of the Zoom jokes (someone forgetting to unmute, someone else accidentally putting up an embarrassing background) actually felt a little dated. I guess that type of humour is so 2020 now. However, the ‘comedy of errors’ (lower-case) of getting the show up-and-running, from the cancelled US trip to the awkwardness of group video conferencing, felt very fitting for Shakespeare’s play. It reminded me that The Comedy of Errors was first performed in 1594, just as London’s theatres were reopening after a series of plague-related closures. This is a very apt play to watch as we tentatively return to the world of live theatre.

The Blind Cupid Shakespeare Company offer an excellent adaptation of Shakespeare’s play of twins (two sets) separated at birth and then accidentally reunited… with hilarious consequences. The play opens with an elderly merchant of Syracuse (Egeon, played here by Stephano Guerriero) arriving in the Greek city of Ephesus. Due to a prohibitive law, he is immediately arrested and sentenced to execution. In his own defence, he recounts a sad story (in Italian): Egeon and his wife had twin sons, and they also purchased the twin sons of a poor woman in the town to serve as their bondsmen. When disaster struck, and the family were in a shipwreck, Egeon was rescued with one son and one slave, and his wife Emilia was rescued with the other son and the other slave. Both sons are raised by their respective parents and are called Antipholus; both slaves stay with their respective owners and are called Dromio. (And if you think that sounds confusing, it’s only the beginning.)

Shakespeare’s comedy is notable for its unity of time and place. Unlike many of his other comedies, it takes place in a single location and over a period of just one day. The confusion ramps up a notch as we meet Antipholus of Syracuse (played by Gianluigi Calvani), arriving in Ephesus and charging Dromio of Syracuse (played by Alice Lussiana Parente) with taking some money to a local inn. Shortly afterwards, he runs into Dromio of Ephesus (played by Alice Lussiana Parente) and is confused when the slave denies any knowledge of the money, believing that the man is his master Antipholus of Ephesus (played by Gianluigi Calvani). Phew.

The company handles this manic confusion in an impressive way. The pseudo-Zoom set-up actually works in their favour, as it allows the actors to appear on screen together for the final reconciliation scenes. Similarly, the bilingual nature of the play, with the characters from Syracuse occasionally switching to Italian when conversing with one another, helps to keep some sense of distinction between the two Antipholuses and the two Dromios.

Praise has to be given to the actors, of course. Although the Antipholuses and the Dromios are each dressed differently, both Calvani and Parente also imbue their two characters with different personalities, styles and physical performances. It becomes relatively easy to distinguish between the confident, slightly swaggering Antipholus of Ephesus and his more excitable, romantic brother. Similarly, Dromio of Syracuse bounces and dances in each of his scenes, in contrast to his somewhat more browbeaten and hen-pecked brother.

I enjoyed all of the performances here. Gilda Mercado is arresting as Adriana, the baffled and furious wife of Antipholus of Ephesus, who believes her husband is either committing a cruel deception or, perhaps, is possessed by evil spirits. Elize Layton offers strong support as Adriana’s sister Luciana, who believes her brother-in-law has randomly started flirting with her (spoiler alert… it was his twin all along!). Ginerva Tortora convinces as an angry goldsmith who believes Antipholus is trying to obtain goods without paying, and Muge Karagulle makes a late appearance as the Lady Abbess who might be more significant than we first realize.

In true Shakespearean tradition, some actors double (or rather triple) up on parts (and not because they are playing twins). Frances Knight appears in a variety of roles, but perhaps most memorably as Nell, the kitchen-maid wife of Dromio of Ephesus, who is described in rather unflattering terms by her husband’s twin. And Joe Staton plays Duke Solinus and Balthazar, but also gives an unsettlingly scene-stealing turn as Dr Pinch, a conjuror-cum-doctor who offers to exorcise the supposedly possessed Antipholus.

It would be remiss of me to not also mention J.T. Stocks’s direction here as well. The whole thing comes together so well, collapsing the distance and separation between the performers to the extent that they even manage to get some of the slapstick (much of which revolves around people hitting the Dromios with varying brutality) on screen, no mean feat given the constrictions of the digital format. Strong direction brings this to our screens with confidence.

I did have reservations beforehand, but after watching The Comedy of Errors, I found myself reflecting on the ways in which the digital format enhanced rather than diminished the viewing experience. The Blind Cupid Shakespeare Company take every opportunity offered by the format, but not at the expense of strong performances and solid direction. They use the video conferencing technology, but they don’t rely on it entirely.

Now, I won’t say that you’ll come away from this performance feeling that it was a plausible and logical piece of drama. But that’s all on Shakespeare! The Comedy of Errors is a short, frantic piece of silly comedy that requires a healthy suspension of disbelief. It’s easy to imagine that, in 1594, audiences were ready for a bit of silly escapism after the traumas and hardships of the plague and the various lockdowns and restrictions.

I wonder if Shakespeare could have imagined that the play would serve the same purpose over four centuries later.

I thoroughly recommend The Comedy of Errors (or La Commedia degli Errori). If you’d like to see Shakespeare at his most chaotic, handled by a competent company of performers with a strong director at the helm, then this one is definitely worth checking out. (And as an additional bonus, it turns out that Shakespearian dialogue sounds beautiful in Italian!).

The Comedy of Errors / La Commedia degli Errori is streaming throughout September, as part of the Greater Manchester Fringe. To see the full programme for this year’s Fringe, visit the festival website.