White Lies
reviewed by Nick Warburton
This production of White Lies was presented against the odds. It started life in early 2020, and then seemed to hit every hurdle thrown up by the pandemic. But Sean Baker and his team kept faith with it, showing considerable courage and determination in bringing it to the Corpus Playroom two years later. I’m sure I wasn’t the only member of the audience who desperately wanted it to be good as well as brave. And it was.
The play is an early work by the prolific Robert Shearman who has written for stage, radio and television and is probably best known for reintroducing us to the Daleks when Doctor Who returned to our screens in 2005. White Lies tells the story of an apparently ordinary couple, Simon and Claire, who invite an imaginary friend, Roger, to dinner every Wednesday. Although we never see or hear Roger, the production and performances are so sure-footed that it sometimes seems as if we do. Over time, this figment of their imaginations begins to have a profound effect on their lives. It’s an interesting play – shrewd, acutely observed and very funny. It’s also not afraid to explore the sadness at the centre of these two lives.
Sometimes Simon and Claire know they’re pretending, and sometimes they appear to have unquestioning belief in the made-up Roger. Is this an inconsistency? I don’t think so. It’s more a comment on the importance of imagination in our lives, how sometimes we control it, and sometimes we don’t. There’s a sweet irony in the fact that it’s the imaginary Roger who helps bring about the couple’s accommodation with reality.
Under the assured direction of Sean Baker, the evening gets off to a lively start with the immediate arrival of Roger. There was something almost hectic in the playing here and I wondered if they were going to keep up this level of attack throughout. But, of course, they’re in full pretence mode when they’re with Roger, and the scene is followed by the more mundane and ‘real’ breakfast scenes. It’s during these non-Roger scenes that we become aware of the characters’ doubts and insecurities.
Later there’s a splendid and pivotal dinner scene in which Roger is about to get ‘cake’ from Claire and the elbow from his best mate Simon as the couples’ views on their imaginary friend begin to diverge. We’re even presented with a hiding-in-the-wardrobe scene – farce played at proper farce-pace and with exquisite panic and timing. It gives an intriguing spin on traditional farce in that there’s nobody in the wardrobe. (I think, at one point, there may have been two nobodies in the same wardrobe.) Towards the end, Simon and Claire are touchingly brought to a realisation that they have each other and that each other can be enough. I did wonder: could the pace have slowed even more at this crucial moment?
The set was minimal – a black curtain and a white wall, with functional table and chairs – and it left plenty of room for our imaginations. The lighting (Martin Avery) was effective and suited the mood, and the sound (Liam Baker) nicely captured Simon’s hyperactive squash sessions. Costume and props were also apt, especially the excellent 1950s seaside vest for Simon. (Is he really a Daily Mail reader, though?)
White Lies is a two-hander, running at 70 minutes, so it’s vital to have good performances and Helen Holgate and Scott Brindle were wonderfully entertaining. They played brilliantly off each other, giving us characters we not only believed in but cared about. Clare’s long speech, when she determines to stop being a footstool, was especially impressive. She keeps declaring, “I’m fine! I’m fine!” but she only starts being fine when she admits that she’s not. Helen was in complete control of this. And Scott gave us a multifaceted, complex Simon, by turns sad, brash, pompous and, at certain key moments, quietly desperate. And both actors were very funny.
So, thank you, Sean and the Bawds team. I left the Corpus Playroom grateful for my encounter with these imaginary characters, and the positive change they’d made to a bleak January evening.
Author Robert Shearman attended the Friday evening performance of WHITE LIES, and said afterwards ….
28 years ago, when I was a callow and beardless young playwright, I wrote a funny little play called White Lies, about a married couple who can only communicate through a shared imaginary friend. It was my first script for Alan Ayckbourn to produce, and it’d be fair to say it changed the course of my life. It’s been a resilient beast, staged all over the place, picking up the odd award, and being adapted for BBC Radio. I didn’t do much when I was 23 that still haunts me, but this does. And I’m glad.
Its latest incarnation is in a production this week in Cambridge by BAWDS. It’s had to be resilient too – originally set to stage in early 2020, the pandemic saw it off, the plug pulled just as it was reaching its dress rehearsal. I can’t quite believe that in the two years since the cast and director have stuck with it – but they have.
This evening I went to Cambridge to see it. I’ve seen quite a lot of White Lieses over the years, but this was one of my very favourites. It’s funny and very heartfelt and it made me cry a little – and that was okay, because no one in the audience knew I was the writer having a self-indulgent sob. Playing to a full house who seemed to enjoy it as much as I did made me very proud! Thanks to the sensitive direction of Sean Baker – and to performances by Helen Holgate and Scott Brindle that knew when to enjoy the laughs and when to let the emotions play.
I miss theatre. I may do this again.