Dalston’s Arcola Theatre Goes Down Memory Lane

Only When I Laugh, a theatrical offering from the pen of Jack Shepherd, playing at the Arcola Theatre in Dalston, explores the murky and somewhat incestuous matter of what performers are made of.

Is Reg Hensen the salt of the earth and voice of the masses, providing light relief to the people who he came from? Or is he a raging egotist who laughs at his roots and has no real interest in the audiences who line his pockets? Set in a Leeds Variety Theatre in the ’50s, the play, subtitled A Class Act, casts its dilemma on show night giving the accompanying troupe of variety performers a chance to strut their stuff.

Most of the increasingly hectic action takes place in dressing room number one. This sought after place at the top of the backstage pecking order sees an illicit meeting between a rollergirl and a comic, a brief stay by a sophisticated London singer and, ultimately, the roaring, determined invasion by Reg Hensen, a ‘working class hero’ with a reputation as a hellraiser.

The acting in this production is extremely accomplished. It can become difficult to judge when you get actors playing performers (are they really a ham or are they just playing a performer who is a ham…?) but the physicality, diction and streamlined responses of all involved enable scenes to progress smoothly and easily.

Where things get a little muddled is the script which, despite housing some intriguing social remarks, is slightly ambitious in that it tries to be both a philosophical musing on one man and a nostalgic tribute to a group.

Both these subjects are worthy causes. Jack Shepherd has talked before about the miserable conditions suffered by the working classes in the post-war years and his politics come into their own when one of his characters criticises Reg, ‘you help them let off steam when maybe they need to get hot and blow because only that will provide the change this country needs.’ The inference that performers are not for the working classes because they perpetuate the status quo adds a dash of revolutionary flair.

Then there is the nod to the days of pre-televisual entertainment, a nod that is slightly undersold because of the booty shaking motions of the main theme, but that remains in Freddie, ‘the Balloonatic’ who presents a plausible and poignant picture of someone who would have been lost without a  role in variety: ‘the thing is with me is I might not have any talent, I say not much, I might not have any,’ he says with sorrowful candour.

All in all, Only When I Laugh tries to pack too much in – like a show manager who can’t say no to a new act – and pays the price with its disjointed pace. However for all existential actors and nostalgic audiences there is much material to enjoy.

Only When I Laugh is showing until Saturday 2 May at:

Arcola Theatre
27 Arcola Street
Dalston
E8 2DJ

Box office: 020 7503 1646