Reviewed by Dorothy Max Prior and Andy Roberts
Her: We’re invited to come with a partner or friend. It’s a trip to the cinema, I’ve found a nice young man, and we’re offered the back row and a box of popcorn (‘salty or sweet?’) by the prettily-uniformed usherette. Well, what could be better on a rainy Wednesday afternoon in Edinburgh?
Him: ‘Simple and uncomplicated’ – well at least that’s the persona I internally accepted upon suggestion from the soft voice in my headphones. I never asked my partner afterwards what title she placed upon herself, and I hope she’s OK with me labelling her ‘complicated and kind-hearted’ but in the cosy moment it just seemed to fit.
Her: Complicated? Moi? Oh, OK. You’re just a simple guy… You seem a bit nervous. Don’t worry, I’m old enough to be your mother. Oh I see, that’s what’s worrying you.
Him: In the dark cinema’s low lighting I feel aware of my every movement and what signals I might be sending to my partner. But that’s what we are here to embrace, the small nuances we display as we lose ourselves in the movie – being so close to someone, the intimacy is already in place, but there are rules of etiquette we share without knowing.
Her: ‘Lean closer, move your leg towards your partner, offer your hand, turn and smile into their eyes…’ It’s hard to know if he’s getting the same instructions and ignoring them, or if I’ve been cast as the pushy one! Oh OK, so now he’s putting his arm round me, slightly tentatively, but very sweetly.
Him: Brief Encounter (1945) is the movie there on the cinema screen, and the etiquette of the 1940s era encompasses the space. I sit there feeling as if I have been placed into Trevor Howard’s shoes. Was my partner feeling a little like Celia Johnson? I’m unsure but I hope so. In the modern world gently taking someone’s hand sat next to you might not mean much, but it becomes apparent that these things really do have resonance, not just in the piece but in our everyday encounters with friends and family and that’s what’s so lovely – the piece never attempts to be anything more than a gentle and brief encounter with the person sat next to you. It’s not in-yer-face or life-changing and the piece does have its faults: it’s clear the focus is on us and our relationship with the person we are sat next to, but the interaction with the performers (our ushers) could have been embellished more to warm up the 1940s aesthetic.
Her: It’s a lovely set-up, but it feels like a slight piece. I’m not sure quite else what they could have done – I don’t think they could or should have pushed the personal physical contact beyond what was proposed. But it felt lacking; as if there was somewhere it needed to go next and never got to. But Melanie Wilson’s text is, as ever, poetic and beautiful, and the red-plush setting and usherettes’ outfits a simple but beautiful design (visual/live artist Abigail Conway’s contribution, I presume). I also liked the inclusion of a classic cartoon (Steamboat Willy, perhaps?) as a warm-up, referencing the days when a trip to the cinema meant more than just the main feature!
Him: Most of all it was really nice to escape the frenzy of the festival and share a cosy moment with a friend over a box of salty popcorn.
Her: Well, I don’t really do the ‘stars’ or ‘marks out of ten’ thing, but yes, I’d be happy to see him again. Just as friends.