In Life Without Me we are presented with a collection of seven characters engaged in search of identity and purpose. This sometimes farcically absurd, occasionally haunting exploration of how individuals can become caught in the past and feel, to paraphrase one character, “that their lives are going without them in it”, is a little too derivative but entertaining nonetheless.
As the audience enters the theatre a prickly looking Nigel (Martin Broome) is unnecessarily vacuuming the carpet of a beyond-the-help-of-a-TV-rescue-program pink and beige hotel foyer. They notice the fishless fish tank, the graceless ducks on occasional tables, the division of space into “set” areas – the lounge area, the lift, reception desk with a door to the office, a side door, magazine rack and chair.
The dull realism of the lobby contrasts with the improbable storm outside, which is responsible for not only administering a shock to Nigel as he changes a light bulb but also for sweeping guests through a revolving door. They arrive breathless, off-balance and it seems seeking refuge in stultifying hiatus from a world beyond their control. They make forays into the world outside but are unable to negotiate their way to trains or ride in taxis that return them to the hotel door.
John (Drew Fairley) enters soaked, his umbrella obviously offering inadequate shelter from the storm, to encounter an empty lobby as the recently injured Nigel is hidden from view. When Nigel arises with a bloodied face, John is concerned for him, a concern Nigel rejects as he takes ridiculous pleasure in parrying John’s efforts to obtain a room in an apparently empty hotel. There is however another guest, Alice (Julie Huspeth), an overwrought woman who has allergies to a potted plant in her room, and who later is mistaken by a second breathless and down-on-his-luck arrival, linen salesman Roy (an impressive Laurence Coy), for a former sweetheart, also named Alice. She in turn mistakes him for a former lover of the same name.
The wistful Roy raises the energy level of this low depression area through his often lyrical use of language and the sense that he has not yet completely abandoned hope. Later, on the balcony above the constraints of the foyer, a reinvigorated Roy persuades a hesitant Alice that together they can move on. In contrast, a younger couple (Anne Wilson and Brendan Donoghue), as a result of a game in which they pretend to be strangers, move on from a dehydrated marriage. Again, Mrs Spence (a delightfully confused but sagacious Annie Byron), Nigel’s mother, another energetic presence, can come to terms with loss and return to her home with a renewed sense of belonging.
With a storehouse of references to ponder – the erratic lift, the prominence of tank and fish, suitcases and other baggage, disintegrating linen and burnt toast – the play purports to be more reflective than it is. However, praise must go to the production crew and stage management, especially the sound engineer (Ross Johnston), for a very smooth first night. In addition, special thanks to the Fish Consultant (David Herrero).
