Children of the Poor

Children of the Poor, written and directed by Mervyn Thompson from the novel by John A. Lee. Presented by the Children of the Poor Collectiveat the Court Two Theatre from June 13th.

_{Christchurch Press 1988 John Farnsworth}

The faint sounds of applause from John A. Lee's grave might be heard after the opening night of this production.  As a translation of his pioneering social critique it retains the novel's vigour, it's criticism and it's profoundly proletarian voice.  Simultaneously it generates another voice and another critique, one which is uniquely Mervyn Thompson's.

That aside, it is a real and rare pleasure to see Mervyn Thompson open a new work at the Theatre he co-founded, and it is much to the Court's credit that he is able to do so.

The play itself is remarkably faithful in the novel's forthright, complicated story.  It reproduces most of the events which caused a scandal on the novel's first release - Albany Porcello's account of his family's bitter poverty, his own persistent delinquency and his sister's early prostitution - much of which was then thought to represent Lee's own childhood.

Thompson, however, cleverly cleverly splits the original autobiography between first and third person accounts, and breaks the story into innumerably brief episodes and vivid images which produces an immense fluency and a powerful narrative drive.

We see Albany (Patrick Duffy) move from infancy to adolescence, from Dunedin to riverside and back, from his family to his grandparents, from one job to another and on to truancy, theft and jail.

Each fragment is shaped and powered by snatches of narrative spoken direct to the audience, by some amazing sound effects produced solely by the cast (bird song, drums, drones and crying children), and centrally by Presbyterian chants and hymns, sung in rich four-part harmonies.

In style this draws heavily on Thompson's earlier 'O Temperance,' down to the evocative Edwardian setting and the considerable, broad humour.  But it goes beyond this, and beyong Lee.  'O Temperence' has been termed a light entertainment but this is, intentionally, much bleaker.  Moreover, it is a portrait not just of poverty but of how the savagery and hypocrisy of New Zealand social conformity crushes the poor and disadvantaged in particular into criminal deviancy if they are to retain a spark of individuality.

If this has been a common theme of Thompson's, it is powerfully presented here, even to the extent of depicting Albany as a Christ figure at times - during his flogging and tormenting for example.

At points however, the production undermines itself, and there is sometimes a sense that the rhetoric overwhelms the reality it is presenting with a little too much hearty gaiety, Edwardian sentiment and, perhaps oddly, too much sheer fluency.  In a word, it is almost too entertaining.

Nonetheless, these are small criticisms against an otherwise considerable achievement.  The cast of ten, lit by soft ambers and played against a raked set of rostra and in every available space, are uniformly excellent.

Indeed, it is the discipline, commitment and chameleon tirelessness which are the hallmarks of a genuine company performance, underlined by the empathy and detailed inventiveness that in turn are the hallmarks of Thompson's direction.

At the play's end there was an extended and enthusiastic applause.  So there should have been.  Like Lee's book, it has it's faults and shortcomings, but it also shares and revitalises it's energy, it's determination and it's vision.  Not to be missed.