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reviews of absolutely frank 2008 |
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sympathetic and splendidly funny Like his early mentors, Alan Ayckbourn and Willy Russell, Tim Firth is an unashamedly populist writer whose chief desire is to entertain. In this he has succeeded admirably over the years, with the hit comedy Neville's Island, the film Calendar Girls (which he has turned into a stage play for Chichester this summer), and the musical Our House, set to the hits of Madness. There is a warm generosity about Firth's writing that I've always found engaging. And if this two-hander isn't quite from his top drawer - it began life at the start of his career as a lunchtime one-act piece at Ayckbourn's Scarborough theatre and has now been expanded into a full-length evening - it undoubtedly proves diverting. The first half is set 60 feet above ground on a top-floor ledge outside an office. Frank Tollit, an illuminated signage specialist, is putting up a new display for the firm that employs him, "helped" by a truculent young lad in a hoody on a youth training scheme. The clash between pedantic late middle-age - Frank is one of those fussy, garrulous types who expects everyone to find the details of his job absolutely fascinating - and the sulky teenager is gently and perceptively caught. And the play springs a spectacular surprise at the end of the first half when the true nature of the sign they are erecting is revealed. The second half is set several years later. Frank is now a member of the long-term unemployed and his dreams of achieving immortality as a writer of thrillers ("Not for ever, just for a bit," he modestly insists) are unfulfilled. He turns up for a job interview at an electrical goods store, only to the find that the assistant manager conducting it is the former no-hoper from the YTS. Matters then take a hilarious, farcical turn when Frank's lunchtime pitta starts burning in the toaster, sparking off a comic catastrophe. Firth is excellent on both the psychology of salesmanship and the inanities of business management and motivational techniques, but with this dramatist it is always the characters that matter most. Barry McCarthy's sad wry dreamer and Rowan Schlosberg as the hapless Alan who discovers that success doesn't necessarily equal happiness are both splendidly funny and touching as the odd couple who learn a lot about life - and each other - as this sympathetic comedy unfolds. Review by Charles
Spencer |
The
Daily Telegraph on Monday 2 June
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A
lifetime of experience. A teenage of aspiration. That’s the premise behind Tim Frith’s play Absolutely Frank, given its London première at the Queen’s Theatre, Hornchurch on 27 May. The script started out at Scarborough in 1991 as a lunch-time one-act show and was expanded into its present format in 2006. Frank himself is a specialist electrician, who has worked all his life for one company. He erects giant display lettering on commercial facades. He has just been allocated a work-experience student. Alan, like many teenagers, would prefer to be in a rock band, or be a DJ or a painter (DVD covers, not walls). The older man does everything by the book and feels certain that his long years of exemplary service are appreciated by his employers. The younger one rejects formal training (art or technical college) and is determined never to be chained to a nine-to-five office routine. Of course, life’s not going to work out quite like that for either of them. It’s a play of words, and at times in the first act there are too many of them. But it is superbly performed by Barry McCarthy as Frank, devoted to his work yet dreaming of becoming a best-selling writer. The trouble with that dream is that his ideas are all tired and second-hand, unlike his practical skills. Alan is just the sort of awkward lad must of us have rubbed up against more than once. Rowan Schlosberg gives him just the touch of personality grit which could go to the making of an oyster pearl – or perhaps just give everybody acute indigestion. There are two fantastic sets by Rodney Ford which create a neatly gimmicky exterior and interior, in the latter of which some tables are adjusted, in not completely turned. Director Matthew Lloyd keeps the laughs coming, but allows silence where important points have to be made. Review by Anne
Morley-Priestman |
WhatsOnStage.com
on Wednesday 28 May
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Tim
Firth’s former one-act play, commissioned by Alan Ayckbourn,
gets its Fussy, garrulous Frank from Batley, a head of installation sign erector of the old school, is showing hoodie Alan his trade. Frank is not a man for whom one word suffices. Many are cherished, polished, held up to the light for admiration. Frank’s a closet romantic - acting out his sub-sub Russian spy-style writing and believing that belt and braces gets you through life. Alan, umbilically attached to his MP3, is a shrugger, a joker and a definite slacker. Clearly not sharing Frank’s views. Left to his own devices, he’s a rocker, an artist and a rebel. Working 60-foot up on an office building, getting on together, challenges both men into revealing previously hidden knowledge of themselves. Australian drama school/television-trained Rowan Schlosberg (who plays Alan) makes his UK stage debut, stronger as the hoodie than as office apparatchik. Sharing his long acting experience is Barry McCarthy (who plays Frank), whose professional debut was at the Queen’s in 1970. Directed by Matthew Lloyd, they’re a good team. A special mention for excellence to Rodney Ford’s revolving exterior/interior set and Steve Mayo’s urban soundtrack. Firth’s play is gently comic, backed by accurate observation of the foibles and unsuspected depths of human nature, faced with irony-laden change. It’s also a technical lesson in how to install signs while dealing with loss. Review by Mary
Redman |
The
Stage on Friday 30 May  ReviewsGate.com
on Friday 30 May
Gentle comedy on the edge Well, not absolutely Frank. Young Alan develops just as much as his late-fifties counterpart in the two acts of Tim Firth’s ‘odd-couple’ comedy of individuals fitting-in to or being edged-out of a corporate world. Originally seen at Scarborough’s Stephen Joseph, it’s been revised for Hornchurch. Either the rewrites, or the advantage, in a play that can seem to be meandering, of memories from Scarborough reminding where things are going - or the direction and performances, make Matthew Lloyd’s revival seem an improvement on the 2006 version. They’re on the edge all right, Alan and old Frank, erecting an illuminated sign in front of the office-block where Frank’s worked for decades as chief installation engineer. For the certainties underlying his confident instructions and criticisms of Alan have disappeared without him noticing, as surely as the rest of the company’s staff have silently evaporated. Frank has to come to terms with this, and with his limitations as a spy-writer (something Firth hardly makes convincing). Alan has an artistic dream, of being a rock-star. But conformity strikes anywhere; by the second act, the pair are out of overalls and into suits, their status reversed. Alan, at least, knows how greasy a pole he’s climbing; Frank’s now the one on a scheme. Always, the one with status takes the strain. Firth contrives some neat situations and, as in his full-length debut Neville’s Island, several crafty side-steps in the action, along with some very funny lines. But whereas Neville surged forward through the bonding exercise that isolated four businessmen together, driven by conflicting personalities, this play still seems too long for what it has to say. It leaves the suspicion this pair could have been part of a larger – if not much longer – drama. There’s a lack of dramatic richness and variety. That said, Barry McCarthy and Rowan Schlosberg give well-contrasted performances. McCarthy’s initial confidence turns to carefree jollity in the second act. Frank’s learned to laugh - and has the last laugh or two. Schlosberg reveals the individuality behind the iPod-tuned youth and, later, the anxiety of a young executive needing to prove himself. Review
by Timothy Ramsden |
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Frankly feel-good fun Absolutely Frank is by Tim Firth who gave us Calendar Girls and also Neville’s Island which was a great hit for the Queen’s last year. With Firth you know what you are going to get; his beguilingly gentle comedies entertainingly do what they say on the tin. Ordinary people with annoying faults, endearing ticks and fussy little ways will be placed in a tricky situation and left for us to see how they cope with added stress. Frank, played by Barry McCarthy, is a plain speaking man from Batley. Head of Installation for industrial signs and proud of it. He’s also addicted to words, with a vivid imagination, writing cliché-ridden spy stories. Hoodie Alan, played by Rowan Schlosberg, complete with MP3 player and plenty of attitude, is there with him 60 feet up on work experience. The scene is set for – well I’m not going ruin things for you – but it’s a feel-good evening which proves there’s something to be said for experience triumphing over management speak. Review by Mary
Redman |
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Verdict: Frankly about life, ambition, happiness The heart-warming Absolutely Frank is a two-hander set high above Preston ring-road in a high-rise office block. Frank (Barry McCarthy) is on a precarious ledge on the outside of the building. He's a bossy, sententious worker, counter-balanced by lackadaisical, teenage apprentice Alan (Rowan Schlosberg). As they drag a series of enormous fibreglass letters onto the ledge and use them to sit on, they reflect on words, graffiti, type-fonts, literature and meaning. Their conversations illuminate their characters and present a metaphorical window onto the world they inhabit, which rivals the giant physical one standing behind them. This huge window is a frame to an outstanding set (by designer Rodney Ford) - visually imposing and realistically convincing. Functionally it works effortlessly with the actors, forming part of the story. It even gains rounds of applause during the play. Barry McCarthy and Rowan Scholoberg, aided by sensitive direction from Matthew Lloyd deliver exemplary performances. Clearly the concerns Frank and Alan have over their lack of talents should not be shared by the actors playing them; even as words physically trap the protagonists in the second half, this wordy but insightful play by playwright Tim Firth is never too much for the expertise of the company. Review by Claudia Morcroftshow page |
