By FRANCIS TILL
Since the film came out in 1989, Willy Russell's 1986 one-hander Shirley Valentine has fallen a bit into disrepute as a perennial flower of rather ordinary dimensions.
It is far from ordinary, however, for all that it may have wilted a bit in age; perhaps much like
Shirley Valentine herself.
The story is familiar to most. Shirley Bradshaw, nee Valentine (Nancy Schroder), is a fossil of the energetic girl who married Joe too young and raised children who have largely forgotten her. We meet her while she is cooking eggs and chips for Joe, who demands the plate hit the table as soon as his foot crosses the threshold on returning from work. She confides her story to us, as if we were imaginary mates, turning now and then to speak to her oldest confidante, the kitchen wall.
There is great humour here of a profoundly English working class variety as Shirley reveals herself to us slowly and without any pathos as a woman rendered intangible by the relentless wash of her small life's tides, one who finally takes her own rescue in hand.
The play has all the hallmarks that have turned Willy Russell into one of Britain's most-performed playwrights: a great love of working class humanity, a dedicated ear for the spoken word's richness and consummate one-liners. Too honest to be "light" and yet too optimistic, ultimately, to be "serious", Shirley Valentine fits an in-between space that opens doors on hard truths without forcing audiences into reflective fugue states.
Dated as many references in the play have become, Shirley is still a recognisable woman caught in a still believable trap; but as the play gets further from the moment of its conception, it becomes more difficult to make a production succeed. Newcomers the Real Theatre Company rise to these critical production demands beautifully under the direction of David Coddington. It is Nancy Schroder, however, who makes this a performance not to be missed by bringing every possible nuance of Shirley delightfully, intimately and completely to life.
