Emily

‘I am often of the opinion that love is not such a big deal,’says Emily, without much conviction. She is a Wall Street stockbroker who mixes it up with the boys: cynical, ruthless and manipulative, she lives alone, frightening off her dates when they threaten to get serious. That is, until she meets a nice guy with no money, who sees through her, challenges her, and makes her re-consider her entire way of life.

It was written in the 1980s by Stephen Metcalfe (a US playwright, screen writer and director) and is set there by this production’s director, Warren McKenzie. It wouldn’t stand up in the twenty-first century; it’s a comedy that might have been considered bold in its first productions, challenging the ‘greed is good’ mantras of that period’s excesses, and asking questions about the role of women in that kind of workplace, but now comes across a little light on its conclusions on how (if?) you can have success in a fast-paced workplace within a loving and committed relationship.

The story is told through a huge number of short scenes, largely set in various New York bars and restaurants, and occasionally the office where she works. Emily (Jess Carroll) is a woman in a man’s world, exceeding the cynicism of those around her, wearing a mask like everyone else. The verbal comedy is dark, with some light relief through some good physical humour from Emily’s friend, Hallie (Leanne Robinson) and the costumes and mannerisms of the barman (each played differently and hilariously by Andrew Horwood). Emily’s male co-workers are largely two-dimensional, loudly proclaiming the labels of their ‘alma mater’ and constantly propositioning her. She survives that environment by becoming one of them, tolerating their misogynism and chest-beating.

As the titular character, Jess Carroll owns the stage: indeed, she rarely leaves it, continuing her fourth-wall monologues as two impeccably timed dressers (Kaitlyn McKenzie and Assistant Director Brittany Daw) change her costumes between scenes. For most of the first act, her steely ‘be like the boys’ attitude inhibits any real character development, but as it reaches what you think is its foreshadowed conclusion before the interval, and for the rest of the performance, Carroll’s deconstruction of Emily is a delight, where the comedy gives up a little to romance, and we see a woman we care about.

Stephen Bills’ portrayal as John, the sensitive, no-nonsense ‘aspiring actor’ has depth, developing his character through his physicality as much as his words – though the speech he offers Emily when she asks him why he loves her manages to warm and break our hearts at the same time.

Whilst Emily’s co-workers don’t have much to go on, her family should be more complex: Emily’s boss is also her father – admirably played straight by Horwood again – and the ‘work-is-everything’ focus that he tries to foster in Emily is a clunky signpost of why she is like she is. The bitter, yet flippant, attitude of Therese Hornby’s Deirdre, Emily’s mother, doesn’t add to the protagonist’s background.

In the adaptive design of Emily’s changing costumes, Trisha Graham and Kaitlyn McKenzie have very much given the 1980s shoulder pads and bold colours a character of its own on the stage, acting as a constant reminder of the period we’re observing.

Some stage lighting is only noticeable when it’s done badly, but this production’s stands out for lighting designer Mikayla Bishop’s perfect placement of spots and fills, paired with James Allenby’s exceptional timing as the operator. There’s little colour in the wash, but the light defines the boundaries of the stage at just the right moment. Director McKenzie also designed the sound: the diegetic city buzz and classic 1980s music furnish the background of each scene.

His direction offers a broad visual background with his ensemble carefully placed on the stage, and after a steady first act, the pace after the interval gives us something more than just laughs: questioning our choice of the career we take on, the partner(s) with whom we share our lives, and our commitment to any of it. And he teases an ending that you think you see coming, yet twists it a couple of times before final curtain. The narrative ponders a lot of questions about capitalism, sexism, romance, and relationships, leaving most unanswered. But you will think a little more about love, and how even Emily could admit it IS a big deal.

Mark Wickett