Hot lunches and cold comfort for this community in crisis ...
Faith, Hope And Charity (National Theatre, Dorfman) Verdict: Gentle austerity play
THe setting for Alexander Zeldin’s new play is disarmingly charming: this smart London studio theatre roughed up into a crayon- scuffed, fluorescent tube-lit community centre.
Sheltering from the drizzle, and life, is a disparate group of the lonely, the troubled, lost and needy. All have the sleepy faces and watery eyes of actual humans; the theatrical sheen impressively stripped back.
Faith, Hope And Charity is touching, ferociously well played . . . and incredibly slow. That naturalistic dialogue which is effortlessly witty (jokes about cutting sandwiches into triangles) saves many moments. But even so, I almost broke my watch checking it.
Hazel, a round mumsy matriarch, volunteers here (Cecilia Noble again proving to be the most warmly engaging actor on the London stage). She dishes up hot lunches, with a side of ad-hoc counselling.
The tender, snappily efficient way in which she deals with the confused elderly, the desperate mums, a young man with learning difficulties is gorgeous. Slowly these people’s lives, including hers, are revealed.
Mason, her new volunteer help, is played by Nick Holder as a fantastically awkward Wolverhampton worrier.
The thread running right through is cuts. The roof, quite literally, was not fixed when the sun was shining, and now the drip drip drip of water and the threat of closure are looming.
Therapy isn’ t available, many of those we meet are stuck in hostels — and don’t get them started on the courts. But it’s not an unadulterated moan at the system. These are complicated people. Sixteen- year- old Marc (a heartbreakingly brilliant Bobby Stallwood), dealing with his useless mother, is a particularly tricky watch. Seeing him shake with rage while being encouraged to join in the community centre’s choir is a treat; scarily natural and red-blooded. Their story — how his young sister was taken into care and how they’re fighting for her — is the backbone of the night. The issue is that even this, the meatiest of the tales, doesn’t quite sustain my attention. The play’s charm is in its seemingly aimless wander through these people’s lives. But sometimes it really does get lost in a thicket.