Theatreguide.London
www.theatreguide.london
Class
Bush
Theatre Spring 2019
The title of this play by
co-authors and co-directors Iseult Golden and David Horan is a pun, as the
play shows how a child's school problems expose social gaps and tensions
between his working class parents and middle class teacher.
A young male teacher invites
a boy's parents to a conference. The boy has reading problems and the
teacher suggests having him tested for dyslexia or other issues, in order
to find the best way of helping him.
Throughout the play it is
absolutely and unwaveringly clear that all three adults want what's best
for the boy. But their own issues keep getting in the way of their unity
in helping him.
The parents are separated,
and every attempt to form a united front gets lost in their power
struggles and mutual blaming. The teacher is unsure of himself, repeatedly
misspeaking, hiding behind jargon or otherwise putting his foot in his
mouth in ways that just make things worse.
(Alternating scenes of the
teacher tutoring the boy and a girl student – played by the same actors
who play the parents – show him to be well-meaning but not really very
good at his job.)
But larger and more
obstructive than the personal issues is the class gap. Lifetimes of being
made to feel inferior make the parents finely attuned to anything that
suggests a class insult, from the teacher's educated vocabulary to what
they see as patronisation in his attempts to be clear. And, already having
troubles with other students and their parents, the teacher is
unconsciously slipping into a resentment of those who don't share his
values.
The play is a painfully
convincing catalogue of ways one character or another can say things in
exactly the way another will take as an insult, and attempts to find
common ground will only drive them apart.
Given roles that could easily
have become shallow stereotypes, Stephen Jones and Sarah Morris
effectively individualise and flesh out the parents, he as a man of short
fuse struggling admirably to change himself and save his marriage, she as
a woman first tasting independence and freedom from the pressures of
trying to keep the peace with him.
And both show how painful it
is for them that their own problems interfere with their absolute love for
their son.
Their second roles as the
young children amount to little more than gimmick casting, never
convincing us as children or offering much to the play.
Will O'Connell introduces the
teacher as a simple professional and slowly and subtly lets the man
crumble, as we see his confidence fade and come to understand he has
little to be confident about – the main function of the scenes with the
children is to show, with more kindness and regret than criticism, his
limitations as a teacher.
There are no villains here,
just three imperfect people whose combined inadequacies can do little to
help the child.
Class doesn't have a great deal that's new to tell, or much that you haven't probably seen on one TV soap or another. But it tells its story well, convinces you of its truth and holds your interest and sympathy through its uninterrupted 95 minutes.
Gerald Berkowitz
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Review - Class - Bush Theatre 2019