154 Broomhill Drive, Glasgow
3 stars
Opening up one’s home to strangers is a risky business. It’s the internal workings, after all, be it fleck wallpaper or smelly toilets, that reveal the state we’re in. Yet this is exactly what writer/performer David Leddy and his partner Calum McCallum have done in Leddy’s new play, a co-production with director Matthew Lenton’s Vanishing Point company. With an audience of six squished into the living room of their hosts’ 16th storey flat, a bit of a do becomes an even more up close and personal kind of make-believe wake for terminally ill Rory, who Home Hindrance revolves around.
A best mate’s unrequited love comes with snapshots etched into memory. Rory’s sister Joanna, herself diagnosed with cancer, attempts to live healthy, while an old pal knocks back the booze and an ex girlfriend attempts to wash the past away. Finally, in a scene recalling the ending of quintessential 1980s art-house romance, Betty Blue, Rory’s true-love Leah relives those gorgeous unplanned intimacies that defined their affair. As the bedroom light goes out, it’s both an elegy for the worst possible scenario, and an acceptance of one’s own mortality.
That this is done in vivid, space-invading close-up feels like one is intruding on private grief. Especially given that Leddy makes no bones about Home Hindrance being inspired by McCallum’s ongoing kidney failure. Each character’s acknowledgement of their own artifice makes for a candid, funny and understandably sentimental experience that might not stand up beyond its chosen setting. Nevertheless, there’s an inherent poignancy at play, and a set of affectingly honest performances, especially from Clare Yuille as Leah. Leddy thought the worst, and created something beautiful.
The Herald, May 8th 2007
ends
3 stars
Opening up one’s home to strangers is a risky business. It’s the internal workings, after all, be it fleck wallpaper or smelly toilets, that reveal the state we’re in. Yet this is exactly what writer/performer David Leddy and his partner Calum McCallum have done in Leddy’s new play, a co-production with director Matthew Lenton’s Vanishing Point company. With an audience of six squished into the living room of their hosts’ 16th storey flat, a bit of a do becomes an even more up close and personal kind of make-believe wake for terminally ill Rory, who Home Hindrance revolves around.
A best mate’s unrequited love comes with snapshots etched into memory. Rory’s sister Joanna, herself diagnosed with cancer, attempts to live healthy, while an old pal knocks back the booze and an ex girlfriend attempts to wash the past away. Finally, in a scene recalling the ending of quintessential 1980s art-house romance, Betty Blue, Rory’s true-love Leah relives those gorgeous unplanned intimacies that defined their affair. As the bedroom light goes out, it’s both an elegy for the worst possible scenario, and an acceptance of one’s own mortality.
That this is done in vivid, space-invading close-up feels like one is intruding on private grief. Especially given that Leddy makes no bones about Home Hindrance being inspired by McCallum’s ongoing kidney failure. Each character’s acknowledgement of their own artifice makes for a candid, funny and understandably sentimental experience that might not stand up beyond its chosen setting. Nevertheless, there’s an inherent poignancy at play, and a set of affectingly honest performances, especially from Clare Yuille as Leah. Leddy thought the worst, and created something beautiful.
The Herald, May 8th 2007
ends
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