Lou Fox
Going to a party alone is the worst. You know the feeling: turning up with your own unique claim to the Birthday VIP, clutching on to the chance you will know somebody else, and hoping that, if not, you will find somebody in the melee with whom you click – if just for the evening.
Mavis – twenties, effervescent, self-indulgent – must navigate the same fate, year after year, at a “close” friend’s birthday celebration, of the guest doomed to sit at end of the table. But she’s not alone: David is, figuratively and literally, in the same situation, and the pair’s annual meeting leads to a bittersweet modern romcom with a poignant little sting in its tail. No thanks to Netflix’s annual deluge of plastic love stories, this is a genre that has been repackaged scores of times with every former child-star C-Lister going. But Izzy Radford – who writes and performs – deftly navigates the modern romcom with skill, fresh eyes and seeming ease.
Yes, in many ways, it is full of tropes, and self-assuredly so: strangers meet, bicker, and grow fonder; will they, won’t they; he’s single, she’s not, and vice versa. David (George Airey) is a statistics-bloke-turned-aspiring-actor; Mavis is a zany florist (or is she?) who’s a little ‘too much’. There are implied warnings about ‘missed opportunities’ and ‘roads not taken’. On first glance, perhaps, classic romcom fodder, complete with memorable montage-esque film soundtracks in scene changes.
However, Radford’s writing operates with captivating flourishes. This makes an impression greater than the now-ten-a-penny ‘Messy Millennial Woman’ à la Waller-Bridge and co., nor is it a saccharine fable with a clean-cut message at the end. It is genuinely unpredictable, a little absurd, and at times uneasy, leaving the audience wondering not only if they, true to form, ‘will or won’t’, but crucially, if we even want them to.
In a series of vignettes, the characters’ individual growth outshines that of their relationship. This is no complaint. First, Mavis is borderline-petulant in pink taffeta, spitting an impressive arc of liquid over the stage not five minutes into the show (“Sorry, David, ignore me – I hate wine”). Next she is staid carer, when, the following year, David turns up having had one, or ten, too many. And on it goes, like reincarnation, each peek at their unfolding relationship showing a different prism of their lives. It is more like One Day than a traditional romcom, leaving audiences to work backwards and fill in the space between scenes. We see growth: Mavis’ diabolical self-interest softens over time, leaving her more thoughtful and down-to-earth, and David eventually perks up, pursuing a new career and a more assertive sense of self (although that ‘self’ is not ever wholly clear to us). Perhaps saddest of all is a twist in which we see that Mavis – commanding presence, delightfully idiotic, self-obsessed and somehow genuinely likeable – might not even have been the main character in her own story after all.
On small but almighty stages, Fringe theatre seldom fails to impress with savvy artistic choices: stage design by Miranda Cattermole sees translucent drapes which keep a rotating costume wardrobe on show. We are thus in a space which is both annual birthday dinner and a temporally ambiguous nowhere (perhaps it is the great Romcom In-Between, where Harries and Sallies are laid to rest). This helps bring the episodic format to the stage, shifting us smoothly from year to year with little visual variation other than their outfits (indeed, we see them change over time…). The use of characters’ phone messages, however, played over music between scenes, were surplus to requirement. Too quiet, and the words were lost; too loud, and it was leaning toward auditory assault competing with It Had to be You. Nonetheless, a joyful hint at their quick-changing lives, and excellent in capturing the we-just-missed-each-other bit.
Radford and Airey are at ease – with one another, with themselves, with the script, with the genre. Their performances are dynamic, rising to the occasion in fast-paced sniping, languidly pampering silences to finessed comedic effect, and fostering a chemistry between characters that almost (not quite) makes us root for them. If Radford shines, then perhaps Airey glows a little less – but that feels just right. Radford, as Mavis, is, after all, an uncompromising star from the off, with something distinctly British Leading Lady in her comedic delivery – a dash of Coleman, Saunders, or Davis.
Superbly written dialogue keeps the pace up and leaves the audience to decide if its characters are charming, insufferable, or a true-to-life cocktail of the two. Seating Plan is a confident new offering in the romantic comedy genre, and one whose portrayal of femininity is sparkling, silly and nuanced.
Recommended Drink: A Bramble: bittersweet, moreish and bright, bright pink.
Catch Seating Plan between July 31st and August 25th (except 7, 21 August) at 5pm at the Nip Patter House, Gilded Balloon. Tickets are available through the EdFringe Online Box Office.
Jake Mace
Lamesha Ruddock
Jasmine Silk
