Willy Russell’s one-woman play Shirley Valentine relies
significantly on the casual slinging of a certain level of schmaltz as
the title character, a charming and self-effacing 52-year-old Liverpool
housewife, rediscovers herself. The abilities of viewers to tolerate
that schmaltz usually dictate whether they find the production to be a
bemused sitcom or a mini-revelation.
Factor in a terrific performance and capable direction, both of
which are to be found in the current production at Live Theatre
Workshop, and the play can actually plumb the depths of meaning and
cause chills of recognition—not only for Shirley’s initial
repression, but for her emergence as well.
Lucky for those of us in the audience, Sabian Trout has confidently
directed this excellent interpretation, which is equally blessed with a
subtle and laser-focused performance by Tucson theater vet Carlisle
Ellis. She makes this production (which has been done in Tucson before)
a fortuitous opportunity to rediscover the play.
During the first act, Shirley speaks to the wall in her home’s cozy
kitchen, as if it is her oldest, and perhaps only, confidant. The
play’s great conceit is that she addresses the wall (“Hiya, Wall”), but
it is actually a surrogate for the audience. It’s the proverbial fourth
wall, but Shirley doesn’t break through the wall as much as invite us
inside it, into her kitchen, into her life.
She’s preparing the evening meal for her husband, a man who is
slightly abusive and, just as important, nearly as numb as she is to
life’s banal cruelties. Waiting for him to return home—at which
time he expects tea to be on the table without fail—Shirley
prattles on about her now-grown kids, her neighbors, her Joe, her
achingly boring life. Of her husband, Shirley says, “I’m not saying
he’s a bad man; he’s just no bleeding good.”
Shirley eventually confides that her newly divorced, feminist
girlfriend is going to Greece, and she has purchased an additional
plane ticket for Shirley. But our heroine could never go; she could
never abandon her Joe and the chips and eggs for a fortnight of sea and
sand and wine. Could she?
Russell, also the author of such works as Educating Rita,
wrote the play in the mid-1980s, with Noreen Kershaw starring in its
1986 premiere in Liverpool. Pauline Collins took over the role for the
1988 West End debut and went on to perform the role in the film version
in 1989.
It’s safe to say that Shirley Valentine—the play and
the character—preceded not only Stella getting her groove back,
but also such unexpectedly empowering cultural phenomena as the MILF
and the cougar. So in a sense, Shirley’s transformation from a dowdy
homemaker—who perceives herself on the downhill slide past middle
age—into an engaged and vibrantly sexual woman marks something of
a pioneering moment. It’s plain to see the character is already a
hottie even before she blooms; she simply doesn’t know it yet, or she
has nearly forgotten that she once was that person. Delicious memories
of the rebellious high school girl she once was flicker in her mind’s
eye.
Ellis is in full flower as Shirley. Even before she decides to whisk
herself off to Greece, we can see through Ellis that Shirley is on the
verge of a life-changing moment. With her fierce blue-gray eyes,
confident agility (especially in the kitchen) and obvious physical
strength to perform intensely for 90 minutes, she creates a rich
characterization that doesn’t lack for subtlety.
Her performance blends with the script, the director’s careful
pacing and the dance-like blocking to achieve a lovely confluence: a
person who seems off-handedly real and alive, not simply an actor on a
stage.
Ellis brings convincing pathos to Shirley’s heartbreaking depictions
of life with Joe; even as she nervously considers leaving him, she
never stops loving him. But, since this is a solo performance, we also
get the treat of seeing Shirley’s imitations of the people around her:
Joe, her kids when they were little and now, her neighbors, the people
she encounters in Greece. And Ellis nails them all, with her body,
voice and facial expressions morphing as she takes on the other
characters. The delightful thing is that Ellis isn’t performing those
characters, but is portraying each as Shirley sees them.
This production of what otherwise might be considered a slight play
builds emotional resonance. The melancholy that Shirley expresses
through Russell’s working-class poetry, the nostalgia about her lost
youth and the soul-draining drudgery she has come to accept—this
is, if I may say so, not a gender-specific expression of ennui. We all
can understand Shirley’s sense of lost vitality, as well as her
rediscovery of what it means to live again.
This article appears in Jul 30 – Aug 5, 2009.
Shirley Valentine is by no means a “slight play” to the women in the audience. I definitely agree on the excellence of Carlisle Elllis’s performance. One feature which the reviewer overlooked is that it is nice to see a play by a happily married male playwright who likes women and is comfortable with them, hence can write honestly in a female voice. He actually wound up performing a “reading” for some weeks when the actress was hospitalized — and he is 6 feet tall and had a beard at the time! See your program notes! The audiences loved it and he learned even more about his play and about the character. Patricia A. McKnight
Patricia,
Thank you for your insights. I, too, read program notes, but I didn’t find these necessary to repeat in a review for which a limited amount of space is allotted. Russell’s empathy for women and his ability to write in their voices is reason for praise, I agree, but I also didn’t feel the need to point out this out to enjoy the play. I meant no slight by using the word “slight,” but wanted to point out that in other hands that might well be the result. Perhaps I wasn’t clear or precise enough in the use of language this time around — I always strive to try harder next time, and appreciate those readers who want to keep the writers on their toes. Thanks again.