The Wife of Cyncoed is pretty much faultless. Which is annoying.
Whenever I think something might be pretty much faultless, I tend to spend the following few hours / days compulsively trying to detect a fault – because surely one exists? I can’t have just watched a wholly perfect play.
And yet here I am, writing up the review and I’ve still got… nada. So, I suppose I should start to cover all of the play’s – perhaps total? – good qualities, and then maybe some of the bad will occur to me on the way.
For starters, there’s a central performance from Vivien Parry that is so utterly captivating that many audience members forgot they were watching a performance at all, and instead were fooled into thinking they were sat opposite a life-long friend who just fancied a bit of a rant. I know this, because I was one of them – but clearly one of many. I was sat amongst a crowd that cheered at her successes, jeered at her competitors and tutted along as she rolled her eyes in such a way as to suggest that we knew exactly what she was thinking – and somehow we did?!
Parry plays Jayne, who has just retired, but only from her professional job. Her real job as a mother, and now grandmother, is clearly ongoing – and it doesn’t look like Senior Management (her children) are keen on her putting her feet up anytime soon. We first meet her at a family party which is filled with amiable archetypes that are instantly recognisable – from the too-perfect-to-be-true house-proud daughter to the blokey son-in-law keen to duck out of conversation to watch the golf, but doesn’t mind chipping in now and again to point out some of his DIY handywork – ‘…used to be a wall by there.’
We learn that Jayne’s divorce has stripped away what was always her dream life, her dream home and her status living in her dream ‘Cardiff High catchment area’ – and now we find her living a – quite literally – ‘buttoned-up’ existence, devoid of passion or even vague excitement. That is of course until she meets Alan, at the park.
Okay – meeting someone at the park… maybe that’s the negative? A little cliché? A tad unrealistic? No one meets people at parks anymore. Or, perhaps no one who lives to tell the tale…
But no, that’s not it, because I completely bought the whole thing. Matt Hartley’s script doesn’t once stretch our suspense of disbelief because everything feels so grounded. This monologue is full of heart and humour, with a keen specificity to the city of Cardiff that never alienates, and instead unites all in its depiction of relatable characters and authentic human experiences. The text also flows so conversationally, funnelled through a character who is so warm and likeable, you cannot help but invest in her and the world as she sees it.
Vivien Parry in The Wife of Cyncoed. Photo by Mark Douet
Direction comes from Hannah Noone and her imprint on the production is clear to see, with blocking that never becomes stale or repetitive, and a dance-break at the midpoint which is a pure joy to witness. There are also clearly defined moments that Parry seems directed to dwell on to highlight their importance, like when Jayne nonchalantly presents a lipstick to her son, despite being more than aware of its monumental significance.
I also think Noone is likely responsible for the physical manifestation of Jayne’s journey from ‘buttoned-up’ to ‘unbuttoned’. The point is made when Jayne literally strips back her restrictive layers, freeing herself from her perceived obligations to her grown-up children, first losing what is very much a quintessential ‘Nana cardigan’, then kicking off her shoes and eventually undressing right down to her vest top – symbolic of the reawakening desire and emerging freedom in her life. All this, before Jayne’s daughter intervenes and shames her back into submission – and pointedly, back into that cardigan.
My list of highlights from this play is genuinely endless and I think I’m already past the point in which this review could be called anything other than an exaggerated spurt of gushing praise. So, in lieu of including a single negative, I might as well allow myself to include just one more positive:
Jayne experiences an emotional breakdown towards the end of the play, during which Parry makes an extraordinary squeal that I found almost musical in tone. It was like when the strings of an orchestra kick in at a pivotal moment on an emotive soundtrack, and regardless of how much you care about the subject matter, you involuntarily start to tear up at the sheer force of the sound. A small moment, from a simple play – but so damn effective, proving just how much you can do with so little.
The Wife of Cyncoed doesn’t seek to reinvent the wheel or pretend to be anything other than a fun, entertaining insight into a relatable, if relatively underrepresented experience. It serves as proof that we can never really tire of stories about extraordinary people living ordinary lives and the safest bet to win over an audience is to give them a simple story well told.
Venue: Sherman Theatre, Cardiff
By Matt Hartley
Directed by Hannah Noone
Cast: Vivien Parry
Run time: 80 min, no interval
Runs through 23 March
