Sian Reese-Williams

Our Town

21/02/26

Theatr Clwyd, Yr Wyddgrug

Why can’t everybody be like Michael Sheen? He’s an inspiration in the truest sense of the word: a dream combo of determination, integrity, generosity and vision. When the National Theatre of Wales lost its Arts Council funding and subsequently shut down, most of us wrung our hands and despaired. Not Mr Sheen. If Wales needed a national theatre, he thought, then the only question was how to deliver it.

And the answer was: he’d pay for it. He’s been a ‘not-for-profit’ actor since 2021, using his considerable income to fund social causes and charitable projects. And what could be closer to a Welsh thespian’s heart than an institution dedicated to producing, promoting and preserving his beloved Cymru’s theatrical culture?

And so the Welsh National Theatre was born, and here we are – Philip, Mum and I – at the newly-refurbished Theatr Clwyd, ready to see its inaugural production, Thornton Wilder’s Our Town. Although this quintessentially American play seems an odd choice for a Welsh debut, any doubts I have are soon expelled as the production gets underway. Despite the fact that the fictional Grover’s Corners has a very specific location (Wilder describes it as “in New Hampshire, just across the Massachusetts line,” and even provides us with fake co-ordinates), its gentle exploration of everyday life has a universal quality that makes it applicable to small towns everywhere.

Ultimately, Our Town is a celebration of community: an ensemble piece with no sensational storylines or great climactic moments. If that sounds boring, don’t be misled. The whole point of this play is to embrace the ordinary, to highlight the little things that make life worthwhile.

Sheen plays the Stage Manager, a meta-theatrical character who breaks the fourth wall and addresses the audience, narrating and commenting on the action as it unfolds over twelve years.

We first meet the townsfolk in Act 1 (“Daily Life”). It’s 1901 and neighbours Emily Webb (Yasemin Özdemir) and George Gibbs (Peter Devlin) are teenagers, about to graduate high school. Their respective parents, Editor and Mrs Webb (Rhodri Meilir and Nia Roberts) and Dr and Mrs Gibbs (Gareth Tempest and Sian Reese-Williams), represent the steady, family-focused nature of the town. They are good people, not especially ambitious, but determined to provide a secure base for their children, and hopeful that they too will lead decent, contented lives.

Act 2 (which follows without a break) is titled “Love and Marriage” and takes us forward in time to 1904. Emily and George, now 19 years old, are about to tie the knot. There are nerves, excitement, doubts and reassurances – and, ultimately, a joyful wedding.

The twenty-minute interval precedes a distinct shift in tone. The third act (“Death and Eternity”) is almost unbearably poignant. Nine years have passed – and so have some of Grover’s Corners’ inhabitants, including Mrs Soames (Christina Modestou) and alcoholic choir director Simon Stimson (Rhys Warrington). Emily’s little brother, Wally (Aisha-May Hunte), has died of a burst appendix, while George’s mother has succumbed to pneumonia. Their ghosts perch on ladders in the cemetery, looking down on their loved ones as they grieve. The spirits lament the living’s incapacity to notice the small moments, their lack of appreciation for the minutiae of life.

Director Francesca Goodridge manages the pace well: although Grover’s Corners is a tranquil town, the piece still feels vibrant and active, even as it slows down for its final, contemplative third. Movement director Jess Williams’ transitions emphasise the sense of community, as the cast work together to move the simple props, constructing ephemeral churches, public buildings and people’s homes, lending a meditative quality to the play.

In accordance with Wilder’s stage directions, the minimalist set works well: it’s amazing what can be achieved with a few planters and some planks of wood. But I’m especially impressed by the decision to use naturalistic props for the section when a ghost (I won’t reveal whose) goes back to relive a fondly-remembered birthday. Until now, everything has been mimed or suggested, but suddenly we have a real table, real chairs, actual bread dough being kneaded, bowls, cutlery, table cloths, the lot. I love the simplicity of the symbolism, as the ghost appreciates the details that the living take for granted.

Our Town is a triumph, a testament to what can be achieved when rich people give back to the communities that raised them.

Da iawn, Welsh National Theatre. And diolch yn fawr, Michael Sheen.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

The Human Ear

Unknown

16/08/15

Roundabout@Summerhall, Edinburgh

Sian Reese-Williams and Abdul Salis must surely be the hardest working actors at this year’s fringe. Starring in no less than three duologues at Roundabout (Our Teacher’s a Troll, Lungs and The Human Ear), the number of lines they’ve managed to learn is impressive in itself; that their performances are consistently first-rate is nothing short of amazing.

All three pieces are directed by George Perrin, and there’s a distinctive style to his work. There’s no set, no props, no fancy costumes. Instead, there’s a blank stage, two actors – both casually but anonymously clothed – and a lot of clever lighting (designed by Emma Chapman). There’s no attempt at naturalism here, no attempt to physically create a space. Where the characters are (on the doorstep, at home, in bed, in IKEA) is told us through the dialogue; the actors’ movements represent instead the characters’ emotional distance – they circle each other, move close together, far apart – and it’s done so well we never question it.

In The Human Ear, Reese-Williams plays Lucy, a recently bereaved young woman, whose estranged brother turns up unexpectedly. Salis plays both the brother, Jason, and Lucy’s policeman boyfriend, Ed. He switches effortlessly between roles, without relying on any of the usual techniques: there’s no obvious change of stance, no particular mannerism added, no vocal tic or new accent. He just is, somehow, a different man.

Time-shifts are similarly deftly shown. There are no pauses in the dialogue – the flashbacks are unbidden thoughts within conversations – but the lighting (a masterclass in precision) makes clear exactly where we are.

There is a lot to admire about this play. The premise is exciting and it’s beautifully performed. If, in the end, the pay-off isn’t quite as satisfying as what’s gone before, it’s still a production well-worth seeing.

4.6 stars

Susan Singfield

Our Teacher’s A Troll

ROUNDABOUT - EDINBURGH INTERNATIONAL FESTIVAL 2014 Unknown-3

06/08/15

 Roundabout@Summerhall, Edinburgh

Edinburgh has a fantastic new festival venue in Paines Plough, Summerhall. From the outside, it looks fairly unprepossessing and you think, ‘Oh, it’s a tent.’ But once you step inside, all preconceptions are swept aside. This is a fabulous theatre-in-the-round, complete with state-of-the-art programmable LED lights and a crystal clear sound system – but, even more remarkably, it can be dismantled piece-by-piece and packed into a single lorry, to be taken anywhere in the world. Roundabout are justifiably proud of their new baby and offered a pre-festival sneak peek at one of their upcoming plays – Our Teacher’s A Troll by Dennis Kelly.

Kelly must be one of the most eclectic writers in the business. It’s hard to link this chirpy slice of children’s theatre with DNA or Utopia or his TV sitcom, Pulling, but they are all the work of an accomplished and creative mind. OTAT tells the story of two ‘terrible’ twins at an inner-city school, who, having driven their head teacher to a nervous breakdown (she’s found eating sand in the sandpit), discover that her replacement is something that they could never have expected – a gigantic flesh-eating troll with a hard line on troublemakers. The children at the school are made to dig up the playground and work in the resulting goldmine, while the troll takes action against anyone who is unruly (pupils and teachers alike) by biting off their heads.

This is a two-hander: the twins (and everyone else in an extensive selection of characters) are portrayed by Sian Reese-Williams and Abdul Salis, who effortlessly switch from character to character, occasionally using a voice-transforming microphone to embody the unseen but terrifying troll. The duo’s command of the circular stage is total and there’s plenty of lively interaction with members of the audience. The play is suitable for children aged 7 and up, but there’s plenty here to entertain the grown-ups also, and only the grumpiest audience members will fail to be enthralled as the tale unfolds. So parents of young children, take note. This is too good a treat to miss and it’s on until the 23rd August, with the hardworking actors (who are also appearing in other productions at the same venue) taking only an occasional day off throughout the run.

4.3 stars

Philip Caveney