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No country for old women: Old Ladies - at Finborough Theatre

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The day after seeing The Old Ladies at the Finborough Theatre , I was describing the play to someone in great detail: about three old ladies who lived in a rickety house in southern England in 1935. Based on Hugh Walpole’s novel and adapted by Rodney Ackland, it is the sort of story with enough believability, humour and mild thriller to stick in your mind. Perhaps it is the lure of this dark, forboding tale of a life without money, to be alone and to be old, that makes you feel attracted to this poverty porn. But then again, given the state of the world, the cost of living, an ageing population, or just the fact that it’s a dog-eat-dog world, it might as well be an every little old lady-for-herself, too. It’s a well-acted and staged piece that moves at a brisk pace, so there isn’t much time to think about it too much. And in the intimate (or should that be claustrophobic?) space of the Finborough, there’s nowhere to avert your eyes. Even if you wanted to.  The scene is a grim Cathe...

Random access memories: The Father

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The Father is the story of one man as he “looses his leaves,” and through a series of fragmented scenes it is left to the audience to piece together what is happening to him. But the premise of jagged short scenes actually proves alienating and the dialogue is often unbelievable. What we learn over the course of this piece is that Andre is 80 years old. He was once a tap dancer. He lives with his daughter Anne and her husband Antoine. Or he was an engineer whose daughter Anne lives in London with her new lover. Bit by bit fragments of his life are colliding as age takes its toll. Are those around him helping him or have they other plans?