Oran Mor, Glasgow
Four stars
“A young man in his underpants is not a good look in the Catholic Church.” So goes one of Mammy Superior’s brand spanking new set of commandments down at St. Boaby’s on the Knob. The gift shop isn’t exactly doing a roaring trade under the watchful eye of this holier than thou demagogue and her frisky underling Sister Mary Mary. With the Cambuslang Cat Burglar on the prowl, the Old Relic of St. Boaby’s seemingly easy pickings, and Mammy Superior’s sights set on the Vatican, it’s only a matter of time until someone is crucified for their sins.
The Lord moves in mysterious ways in James Peake’s riotous new comedy for Oran Mor’s A Play, a Pie and a Pint season of lunchtime theatre. No sooner is a scurrilous nun-based post Easter farce programmed before real life events in Rome intervene, with the script requiring a couple of respectful tweaks lest assorted plagues fall down on the former church venue.
If such incidents recall the sort of stuff the plays of 1960s pop art farceur Joe Orton were drafted on, the content of Peake’s script is equally playful in both word and deed. Even the Old Relic of St. Boaby’s seems to point a finger to Orton’s oeuvre. The end result in Laila Noble’s increasingly madcap production is an Easter parade of ecclesiastical wordplay, double entendres and one-liners that seem to have been resurrected from the local variety circuit.
This makes for a pulpit load of comic salvation on Heather Grace Currie’s set, a wilfully cluttered creation that is part place of worship, part charity shop. Laura Lovemore’s Sister Mary Mary has a saucy gleam in her eye once Lee Harris’ light fingered Craig turns up. Her overtures of long neglected passions simmer into view even after Craig gets the inevitable habit. Pauline Goldsmith’s Mammy Superior, meanwhile, barnstorms her way to glory like a manic gazelle in a religious tat shop.
While it is unlikely anyone will be saved in this collaboration with Aberdeen Performing Arts, Peake’s sitcom style romp has nevertheless tapped into a world where the profane outdoes the sacred in a guffaw-inducing display that leaves him with plenty of material for his next confession. Hallelujah for that.
The Herald, April 24th 2025
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