Revu Your Funeral
“Your Funeral”
I first read Nick Samuels' Your Funeral in August 2024, when we were performing together at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. It was an exciting time; we were in a new (and incredible) city, being rapidly exposed to new theatre - new kinds of theatre, and performing for the first time at the biggest arts festival in the world. I tell my castmate, "You should absolutely put it on." Though I claim no credit, this week I finally get to see Samuels' grief-centred two-hander onstage.
I finish the long, cold walk to the familiar Burton Taylor Studio (part of the Oxford Playhouse), dearly missing the days of being able to dash across the road from my Trinity college room and see that week's play on a whim. It's dark, since Pharaoh Productions (a play on Writer/Director Samuels' Egyptian heritage) has been given the somewhat unfortunate late slot, which leaves one production sharing a cramped dressing room with another, often struggling to draw in bigger audiences, and with little time for weekday post-show pints before the pubs close. I have a challenge ahead of me - in my second ever review, I'll need to have a go at assessing a new piece of writing as well as the staging of it. One thing is certain about this script - it has evolved since my first reading, and for the better.
Your Funeral gives us access to the final conversation between ex-couple Jeff (Matt Sheldon, who, incidentally, had performed in an earlier production of the play Samuels and I did at Fringe) and Anna (Rebecca Harper), before the latter leaves for Amsterdam with the knowledge that leukaemia will soon claim her life. She is, or at least pretends to be, entirely unfazed by her imminent death, and he cannot help but find this confusing and frustrating. Their conversation navigates the uncomfortable questions of how one is "supposed" to approach death ("What is dying meant to feel like?"), how one can grieve for someone not yet dead, and who a funeral is really for: the deceased, or the living left behind?
“Your Funeral”
In terms of design, there is very little to speak of. A sofa, a suitcase, a couple of pairs of skinny jeans, and Samuels has made it clear that his play's inaugural production will rely entirely on its performances. This is a risky move in Student Theatre, but in this case it absolutely pays off.
Sheldon and Harper are more than up to the challenge of exploring the play's uncomfortable topics and awkward questions, and confront them through two sharply-defined, yet nuanced, characters. Sheldon presents a deeply hurt young man who at some points must repress his love, frustration and attraction to the extent that his body seems to tense up into an awkwardly rigid shape.
He is constantly kept on his toes by Harper, who imbues Anna with all the flirtatiousness, physical dexterity and cheekiness needed to both drive much of the energy of the scene, and disguise an unavoidable concern for how her ex-lover will remember her when she's gone. The contrast between the two, especially physically, is clear - whilst Anna is literally dying, she often appears more alive than Jeff, who is fading away after the end of their relationship.
The only notable issues here are technical, as Sheldon is occasionally guilty of some purposeless feet-shuffling (this, in turn, reflects a broader directorial issue - the whole play could stand to be more tightly choreographed, and in a few long periods a lack of movement does impact pacing), and the clarity of some of Harper's lines is lost. These slight issues, though, feel basically inconsequential in the face of the enormous truth and honesty with which these two flawed characters are presented.
Moreover, the play's bleak discussions are mercifully broken up by a very healthy dosage of laughs, which relax the audience and allow its crushing conclusion to hit us that much harder. Both performances play expertly into these comic moments, and they are a much-needed relief in a story about terminal disease ("Do you want to see my gross black toe?").
I must say that, since reading the script over a year ago, I am still unsure about the conversation's conclusion - the bitter note that Anna and Jeff separate on feels difficult to witness. Potentially, it all feels a little gratuitous and superfluously grim in its emotional violence. But then, perhaps the brilliant point is that people dealing with grief often do not (and shouldn't be expected to) behave in the ways we may be inclined to prescribe for them. Inevitably, individual audience members will have to make their own decision.
The emotive effect of the production, however, undoubtedly reaches its climax in its final moments, thanks to two innovations Samuels has made since my previous reading. The first is the brief but ingeniously-written scene of Jeff's eulogy for Anna, which leads into the second addition, the ending of the play with Neutral Milk Hotel's In the Aeroplane Over the Sea (the song Samuels wrote the piece in response to, originally as part of his degree in Music). Given the context of earlier discussions in the play, the choices Jeff makes in operating Anna's funeral service gives us an unsettling final revelation into what kind of person he is. When the lights go down and Jeff Mangum's voice rings out through darkness, we stay silent for some moments, perhaps out of reverence for the deaths we have just witnessed (one literal, the other moral). Rest assured - passionate applause soon follows.
3.5/5
Thanks are due to Izzy Moore, Milo Marsh, and Killian King for the insights of our post-show chat.
Review by George Loynes
The link to George Loynes’s review blog is: https://roomwithreviewblog.blogspot.com/?m=1&fbclid=PAZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAadKaD9DWn-5mwBnPczPWh3KXF0Wm5MTE_D9WbXEiWAbpuhhg9yNdnyYWKaYSg_aem_MX4-paKRuQoHXi7vgFXpPw
“Your Funeral”
