Calendar Girls The Play

Settling into our seats in the open‑stage setting, we were immediately greeted with the warm familiarity of a village church hall. The piano sat strategically to one side, its presence hinting at the musical interludes and community gatherings that would unfold. The pews were placed diagonally rather than in rigid rows, a subtle but clever choice that created a sense of lived‑in space as though we, the audience, were already part of this small Yorkshire community. Offstage, stage right, a large, grassed area stretched out, clearly intended for later use. I’ve always appreciated when directors embrace the full performance space, allowing scenes to spill beyond the traditional stage. Jade Wilbraham did exactly that. She didn’t just use the stage; she used the room. She took a simple setting and transformed it into a dynamic, breathing environment that supported the story beautifully.

One of the most charming touches was the subtle shift of seasons conveyed through the visual screens and small set elements. A change in the colour palette, a scattering of autumn leaves, a softening of light these details gently guided us through the passing months without ever overwhelming the action. It was a perfect balance: noticeable enough to ground us in time but restrained enough to keep the focus on the characters and their emotional journeys.

Directing Calendar Girls comes with a unique challenge: so many scenes take place within the church hall that the risk of visual stagnation is high. But Jade ensured the proxemics remained constantly engaging. Actors moved with purpose, never drifting or falling into repetitive patterns. Conversations happened in corners, across tables, through doorways, and even in the offstage grass area, which became a surprisingly poignant extension of the hall. The blocking felt organic as though we were watching real women navigate real routines, yet it was always intentional, always guiding our attention to the emotional core of each moment.

And that emotional core hinges on one crucial element: the genuine interactions between the characters. Calendar Girls simply doesn’t work unless the cast feels like a true ensemble, comfortable with one another, trusting one another, and willing to share vulnerability, especially given the famous nude calendar scene. Jade’s direction excelled here. The glances, the shared looks, the moments of hesitation, the supportive touches all of these micro‑moments built a sense of authenticity that made the later emotional beats land with real weight.

I have to hand it to Becky Larner for her portrayal of Annie. She never overplayed the role, never leaned into melodrama, and never forced emotion. Instead, she delivered a grounded, deeply human performance. Her grief over John’s illness was portrayed with a quiet dignity, the kind that doesn’t need to shout to be heard. One particular scene stands out: Annie on stage while John rests nearby. Becky’s stillness, the slight tremble in her hands, the way she swallowed emotion rather than expressing it was a masterclass in subtle acting. Her Annie was the emotional anchor of the production.

Her friendship with Chris, played by Jen Davies, was the beating heart of the show. Their chemistry was effortless. Jen brought a vibrant, mischievous energy to Chris the kind of friend who storms into your life with ideas bigger than her own good sense, but whose loyalty is unwavering. Jen excelled at capturing Chris’s bravado, especially in the scene where she pitches the idea of the nude calendar. Her pacing, her comedic timing, and her ability to shift from humour to sincerity made her performance compelling. But what impressed me most was her portrayal of Chris’s guilt later in the play the moment she realises the calendar’s success has unintentionally overshadowed Annie’s grief. Jen handled that emotional pivot with real sensitivity.

Jenny Arundale, as Celia, was fantastic in her authoritative, confident role. She embodied that woman who walks into a room and instantly takes charge not out of arrogance, but out of sheer presence. Her delivery of her lines delivered with a raised eyebrow and a perfectly timed pause, had the audience laughing every time. Yet she also brought warmth to Celia, especially in the scene where she reassures Ruth that everyone has insecurities.

Although John, played by Anthony Rodgers, isn’t in the production for long, his presence is essential. I did feel that some of the emotional depth of his character was lost perhaps due to pacing or the softness of some lines but his interactions with Annie were sincere. Their scenes, where John jokes, was tender and understated. I only wish we’d had a little more vocal intonation and clarity to fully absorb his pivotal moments.

Anna Evans, as Jessie, was a comedic highlight. Her dry humour, sharp timing, and ability to deliver a line with a perfectly deadpan expression were spot on. When she quipped a many a dry line and quick-witted lines the audience erupted. Anna’s Jessie had that delightful blend of wisdom and wit the older woman who has absolutely no time for nonsense and isn’t afraid to say so. Her presence added a wonderful texture to the ensemble, grounding the humour with experience and a touch of mischief. Helen Macey, playing Cora, brought a wonderful warmth and musicality to the role. Cora’s scenes at the piano were beautifully handled, and Helen captured her character’s blend of confidence and vulnerability. Her delivery during the calendar shoots especially her moment behind the strategically placed items was both hilarious and charming. She managed to balance Cora’s boldness with her insecurities, making her one of the most relatable characters on stage.

And then, of course, there was the comedy‑gold moment: the Westlife‑themed scene with Ruth, played by Nicola Wilkinson. Nicola’s ability to portray Ruth’s nervousness, eagerness to please, and eventual blossoming into confidence was delightful. Her transformation during the calendar shoot from trembling uncertainty to a burst of unexpected boldness was one of the most joyful arcs in the show. The audience rooted for her, laughed with her, and celebrated her triumph.

Ben Mackenzie, as Lawrence the photographer, gave us the perfect blend of awkwardness and earnestness. His expression when he realises exactly what he’s about to photograph was priceless. The way he tried to maintain professionalism while clearly panicking inside had the audience laughing throughout the entire shoot sequence. His performance added a lovely layer of comedic tension to the scene.

One of the most touching elements of the production was the recurring sunflower motif. In the latter stages of the play, when the women hold up their sunflowers, along with the audience, the symbolism of growth, resilience, and remembrance was beautifully realised. It brought a sense of closure without sentimentality, a reminder that grief and joy often coexist. The moment was simple but deeply moving.

You could really tell that the cast understood the demands of this play, the emotional vulnerability, the humour, the camaraderie, and the message of finding strength in unexpected places. Their commitment to the story and to one another made this production shine. Congratulations to NK Theatre Arts on presenting a heartfelt, funny, and beautifully crafted production of Calendar Girls The Play.

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