Made In Dagenham

I received a warm welcome at the door from front-of-house helpers wearing hi-viz waistcoats and the conspicuous Ford emblem that was to be the theme of the show.  It’s such a good idea to set the scene and offer the theatre experience as soon as the audience enters, and it also allows society members who don’t have a role on stage to enjoy being part of the production.  Aided by the evocative music of the 1960s that was playing as we took our seats we were ready to be entertained by the historic tale.  The impressive set was visible immediately; an imaginative design that was constructed by a team who had only a short time to build it in situ.   It wasn’t surprising to see a scaffold structures surrounding the working space using platforms and walkways to provide a variety of levels, multiple entrances and exits, and craftily house the nine-piece band.   Filling the centre of the stage two trucks when pushed together became a screen that was used for projected images, and when separated and turned we could see they were boxes dressed in different ways appropriate for the scenes. A sturdy moveable staircase, in addition to a static one on stage right, was used for dramatic effect to elevate individuals and to reach the upper gantry level, which was decorated to portray the soulless walls of a typical factory, half red brick and half dull grey with dingy windows.  

The show began with a disembodied voice giving us what is now the usual announcement to turn off phones, refrain from any photography and the trigger warning that bad language would be in use.  I’m sure we never used to need that in the days when proper theatre etiquette was more customary.  Nowadays with audiences likely to behave as if they’re at home in front of the television, arrive late, eat noisy sweets and check their mobiles as a matter of course, it has become necessary.  Societies that can make this advice part of the show in some way deserve credit - and here I appreciated that it was delivered in a typical Dagenham, broad estuary accent and with a very funny punch line that was greeted by a spontaneous guffaw of laughter immediately introducing us to the location and the humour to come.   A complex spinning of the central trucks was completed in the nick of time for the opening number and the first set was revealed.  Rita and Eddie’s kitchen showed admirable attention to detail in the choice of wallpaper, the sunshine yellow fitments, the tall, glass-fronted, drop leaf cabinet and its contents, the curtained sink, Formica table and matching chairs, the set dressing of bread bin, table china and cereal, Thermos flask, laundry basket, ironing board and iron, all perfectly replicating those of the period.  The children’s props of satchel, recorder and gym bag also sat comfortably in the scene.  Subsequent scenes using the opposite truck depicted the wood-panelled Parliamentary offices of both the Prime Minister and Barbara Castle, and at other times inside the elegant home of the Hopkinses.  Each one of these was given the same scrupulous dressing to look credible but in minimal form for convenience. The changes were effected promptly while the truck faced upstage so that when it turned, the swift removal onto the floor of a desk or table was all that was needed to give a new set.  A portrait of Queen Elizabeth II hung in Parliament and the topping of the ministers’ ‘shared’ desk was carefully given subtle changes appropriate for the masculine or feminine occupant of the office.  Mr and Mrs Hopkins were given an elegant bookcase topped by a dainty clock, and their table, unlike that of the O’Gradys, was given a linen cloth laid with a sophisticated breakfast!  This powerfully highlighted the social gulf between their white-collar management position and Eddie’s blue-collar working man status.  The plain reverse of the open trucks was used to back many of the other scenes; set at different angles to one another they became the sewing shop, the social club, the park, the Berni Inn, the hospital, the beach at Eastbourne or the conference hall. 

Requiring rather workaday outfits throughout, the wardrobe also delivered that comfortable compatibility with our memories of the styles of the 1960s.  The team had gathered together a splendid selection to dress each of the Dagenham, Westminster (and American) groups and personalities inhabiting the story.  The car builders in blue Ford-emblemed overalls (nice variety of distressing), and their varied mufti, the wild choices of ‘ordinary’ daywear of all the seamstresses featuring mini skirts, shirt-waisters, op art designs, duster coats and white tights, the robotic-looking black-clad Westminster aides with their uniform white hankie points in breast pocket, the smart dark-suited management team, the scary phalanx of academically-clad school masters with canes held precisely at the same angle, the glitzy showbiz silver lurex of the car sales dancers, and the vibrancy of the floral Hawaiian-style shirts and straw hats for the beach at Eastbourne - all showed a dedication to perfection in their detailing with cat’s eye spectacles and other accessories fitting aptly.  Most extravagant was the America pageant as Tooley arrived. The stetson and shoestring tie came across as instantly poking fun at the unpleasant character, and just when we thought every US icon going had been introduced another one entered! The individual characters in the story were treated to the same meticulous dressing - Harold Wilson in his quintessential raincoat and pipe, and Barbara Castle looking so refined in her smart two-piece suits plus complimentary accessories and a fabulous ‘free-style’ auburn wig that almost ridiculed the character but added hugely to the comedy value of the part.  Lisa Hopkins was impeccably dressed to show her social position whether in a classy negligee and marabou-trimmed mules or well-fitting ‘designer’ dresses and those uncomfortable-looking white PVC shoes, and I loved the detail of giving her wig of blonde flick-ups different hairbands on each appearance.  The ladies’ make-up was not over-exaggerated but showed a nod to the fashion for bright blue eyelids of the time. The fluorescent lime green of Cortina Man’s suit worked so well with the dancers’ silver lurex, each providing a foil for the other.  Further details like the brown coats for the shop stewards, the ghastly plastic rain hats, the medical team’s doctor and nurse outfits, Connie’s hospital gown and candlewick dressing gown, the club entertainers, and the intimidating security guards were noted.  I can’t imagine how many pieces had to be sourced and stored in logical preparation - suffice to say that without that care and diligence the show would not have looked as satisfyingly well-balanced and complete as it did.  

Millie Millington and her talented band, half hidden under the overhead walkway, accompanied the singers with the full-sounding precision and good balance we expect and she had coached tuneful performances from the company in the solos, small groups and ensemble work. It’s worth mentioning again the importance of being able to pick out the often funny lyrics and the cast’s clear articulation enabled us to fully appreciate them; none more so than in Barbara Castle’s In An Ideal World, for me one of the highlights, in which her precise elocution enabled her to get out those fast words while conveying all the humour and musically following the key changes.  Charlotte Laity (as well as heroically stepping into a role as if her own at short notice) kept the show bouncy along using energetic routines with everyone looking fully engaged, and many based on working actions. The unison actions of the wives dressing their husbands and the formal strutting of the schoolmasters, though subtle, brought depth to the scenes.  The Cortina Dancers squirmed in a tantalisingly provocative way and, indeed, much of the choreography had an amusing tongue-in-cheek understanding of the comedy inherent in the script.  There was also an evident appreciation of the value of stillness, e.g. the Aides holding their silver salvers of sherry glasses motionless to allow the focus on Mrs Castle, and the use of stable, shapely tableaux to end numbers.  Armography is always good to include; it catches the eye and reduces any complex footwork for the less able movers.  

This is a very funny show with terrific comedy in the script that was brought out in the performances using sensitive timing so none of the lines became lost or subsumed in the laughter, and effective caricature to reinforce the fictional depiction of a dramatic historic event.  There were also moments of poignancy, notably the considerate handling of Connie’s death and Eddie’s big ballad, The Letter, staged in two spotlights.  Scenes were directed to morph smoothly one into another with rehearsed truck and prop shifting by the cast to maintain the flow and pace, and a logical build towards the exciting production finale numbers of each act.  The use of projection for the Cortina sales ad was inspired given the difficulties of getting a full-size car into the Epworth Hall. The creative team worked magic to bring this musical to the stage and did credit to the intentions of the writers who, I believe, would be more than satisfied with the final result of the society's efforts and intensive rehearsal period.

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