Set during a time in British history when army uniforms were bright red with shiny buttons and marriage was 'a blessing which cannot be avoided', at first glance TW Robertson (1829-1871)'s Ours looks like a typical theatrical representation of stiff-backed Victorian manners and stern moralisation. Not that there are many Victorian plays produced these days that weren’t written by Oscar Wilde or George Shaw, so plaudits are due for even attempting to revive drama as thoroughly unfashionable as this.

But it’s more revolutionary than it looks. TW Robertson’s humour is gentle, but he laid the groundwork for the theatre of social realism. He was occupied less with demolishing the hypocrisies of his age through grand theatrical gestures than subtly challenging them with realistic, believable characters – something of a novelty in the heyday of melodrama. The writer uses the backdrop of a larger conflict – the Crimean War – to explore the finer points of a smaller, but far more universal one – that between men and women, and all its associated awkwardness.

Ours opens with a flurry of headache-inducing character establishment, where the cast are briskly, almost formally introduced. Put-upon, benevolent patriarch Sir Alexander Shendryn (Christopher Gilling) juggles monetary affairs under the growing suspicions of his endlessly disappointed wife. Pining romantic Captain MacAlister (Nicholas Gadd) makes a play for pretty heiress Blanche Haye (Emily Dobbs), dangerously above his station; she is courted by Russian Prince Perovzky (Peter Machen). These courtships and social manoeuvrings are cynically deconstructed by acerbic brewing-heir Hugh Chalcot (played with likable bombast by Robert Irons). He's been stung once before by a girl who only wanted him for his cash – although he inevitably joins the dance himself, through verbal parrying with irascible servant-girl Mary Netley (Emilie Patry). On such fertile, meticulously established ground, much pithy observation on the nature of relationships ensues. 'I can control a regiment but not a woman', Sir Alexander exclaims exasperatedly, 'Better battle than a discontented wife!'

The men go to battle in the third act, Hugh Chalcot with a bought commission. Amusingly, the parlour drama follows them to the front line in the form of the women, who tag along as 'battleground tourists'. This is not an unlikely conceit invented by Robertson, but an actual, documented occurrence. Robertson's social realism is discarded when it suits, though. Things gradually coalesce into a unlikely tableaux in which everything is resolved rather too neatly. The stars align perfectly for all concerned, and the entire cast ends up sitting down for dinner in the the harsh, wintry Crimean battlefields. It's a bizarre finale the precise, mannered Victorians would nevertheless have found rather pleasing.

Ours is an unusual and endearing play. Cast and company ably pick drama and humour from a text where they are not immediately obvious. The in-the-round presentation doesn’t lend itself particularly well to such genteel material. With about eight performers on stage talking and playing bowls at one point, the actors are almost treading on the audience’s toes, as they skip delicately across the set - and through the verbose script. But it’s a credit to their skill, of course, that they never do.

Cast Credits: (alpha order): Emily Dobbs – Blanche Haye. Jon Edgeley-Bond – Sergeant Jones/Captain Samprey. Rachel Fishwick – Lady Shendryn. Nicholas Gadd – Angus MacAlister. Christopher Gilling – Sir Alexander Shendryn, Bart. Robert Irons – Hugh Chalcot. Peter Machen – Prince Perovsky/Houghton. Emilie Patry – Mary Netley.

Company Credits: Writer – TW Robertson (1829-1871). Director – Phoebe Barran. Designer – Anna Bliss-Scully. Lighting – Nicola Brown. Sound – Robert Donnelly-Jackson. Music – Tom Attwood. Assistant Director – Alexander Summers. Costume Designer – Joanne Mosely. Stage Manager – Caryn Boehm.

END

(c) Dan Geary 2007

reviewed day Tuesday 17 July / Finborough Theatre

Fringe Report (c) Fringe Report 2002-2008