Drugs, fags and victoria sponge; student theatre company Siren Productions gives us a chilling picture of London's East End. Eldridge's Serving It Up delves into the backstreets of Hackney to put 'Broken Britain' under the microscope.
A small-time drug dealer, Sonny, strives for the affections of a local girl, whilst his mother, Val, is secretly involved with his best friend, Nick. As Sonny's romantic endeavours fall short he becomes increasingly aggressive, stabbing a man in a drunken brawl. When Val's husband catches Nick and his wife in the act, and Sonny lifts the veil on their secret liaison, the play climaxes in an outbreak of anger and violence that leaves nothing but desolation in its wake.
Entering the studio, we are met by the smell of tobacco and take our seats to face Sonny (Matt Orton) and Nick (Max Wolfson) who are slumped on a bench with cans of lager. We sit and watch them in their gloomy state of inactivity amidst the cigarette smoke. Within the small theatre, we are such a part of this atmosphere of urban inertia that I half expect the front row to light up.
The intimacy of the enclosed space also helps to heighten the precarious intensity of Nick and Val's love affair as we see it unfold within the confines of a claustrophobic living room. Jennie Hyde's outward appearance as Val, however, detracts from the risqué nature of this relationship. The first year student looks as young as her youthful lover and we are hard-pressed to imagine the age gap.
Nonetheless, authenticity is far from lacking in this production. Orton adroitly adopts the physicality of a devil-may-care yob. Fluent in thuggish body language, he relaxes into a hostile slouch. In his final explosion of juvenile rage, limbs are thrashed, heads are tossed and insults thrown, along with a cosy looking armchair.
Despite the evident difficulties of presenting the differing ages of their characters, Siren Productions succeeds in creating a domestic world fraught with angst, serving up a bleak vision of the future of Britain's yob culture.
A small-time drug dealer, Sonny, strives for the affections of a local girl, whilst his mother, Val, is secretly involved with his best friend, Nick. As Sonny's romantic endeavours fall short he becomes increasingly aggressive, stabbing a man in a drunken brawl. When Val's husband catches Nick and his wife in the act, and Sonny lifts the veil on their secret liaison, the play climaxes in an outbreak of anger and violence that leaves nothing but desolation in its wake.
Entering the studio, we are met by the smell of tobacco and take our seats to face Sonny (Matt Orton) and Nick (Max Wolfson) who are slumped on a bench with cans of lager. We sit and watch them in their gloomy state of inactivity amidst the cigarette smoke. Within the small theatre, we are such a part of this atmosphere of urban inertia that I half expect the front row to light up.
The intimacy of the enclosed space also helps to heighten the precarious intensity of Nick and Val's love affair as we see it unfold within the confines of a claustrophobic living room. Jennie Hyde's outward appearance as Val, however, detracts from the risqué nature of this relationship. The first year student looks as young as her youthful lover and we are hard-pressed to imagine the age gap.
Nonetheless, authenticity is far from lacking in this production. Orton adroitly adopts the physicality of a devil-may-care yob. Fluent in thuggish body language, he relaxes into a hostile slouch. In his final explosion of juvenile rage, limbs are thrashed, heads are tossed and insults thrown, along with a cosy looking armchair.
Despite the evident difficulties of presenting the differing ages of their characters, Siren Productions succeeds in creating a domestic world fraught with angst, serving up a bleak vision of the future of Britain's yob culture.