★★★★★
Witty and weighty all at once, Home, I’m Darling‘s national tour is nothing short of a triumph. As the lights come on and a 50s-makeover Jessica Ransom twirls around her kitchen making breakfast to the tune of ‘Mr Sandman’, the scene is set.
We follow 38-year-old Judy and her husband Johnny, who are three years into an unusual arrangement: they are endeavouring to live perpetually as though they are in the 1950s. After Judy’s redundancy leads to her deciding to become a housewife, what had been her lifestyle—with a 50s-style house and yearly holidays to a vintage festival known as ‘Jivestock’—becomes her life. Johnny says he is as happy with the arrangement as she is—perfectly, disgracefully happy, as they both claim—but all the while hairline cracks are forming in the nostalgic façade.
One of the show’s best performances comes from Jessica Ransom (Doc Martin, Horrible Histories.) She perfectly balances the bubbly front of the 1950s housewife and Judy’s more vulnerable side: beneath the frocks and cocktails is a deeply anxious individual. We get the sense that this change in career is mainly so that she can hide away from everything for a bit. She compares her own bewildered attempts to interact with the world to missing a difficult lesson at school because you’re off with laryngitis, and feeling as though you’ll never catch up. She has never been able to pinpoint, though, exactly when she missed the class on humans.
From another actor this style of dialogue might sound neurotic or forced or overly self-deprecating—the actor has to really make themselves vulnerable to make it convincing. Ransom does this in spades, making Judy’s anxiety not just sympathetic but relatable.
Another praiseworthy element of the show is the chemistry between Ransom and Neil McDermott, who plays Johnny. In a show that leans so far into a 1950s life it would’ve been so easy to fall back on the same dated jokes about the main couple not really liking each other—’the old ball and chain’, for instance. Instead, however, it is made clear both by the actors and writer Laura Wade that Judy and Johnny really love one another, and above all want to make things work. In the scenes they share they are visibly drawn to one another—they’re affectionate not only when pretending to be happy but also when they’re patching things up. Johnny’s affection for Judy is palpable —this is not a show about a long-suffering husband putting up with his wife’s habits.
Everything about the play runs pretty much as smoothly as a show can run—a result of flawless design. Set changes take seconds and are expertly handled by Judy and Johnny’s friends, couple Fran (Cassie Bradley) and Marcus (Matthew Douglas). Between scenes they’ll sweep onstage, usually to another well-chosen 50s tune, and execute a process that is part set change and part dance. Also to be praised is set and costume designer Anna Fleischle. Before little hints of the modern world – Judy’s laptop, a modern PG Tips box – show through, one would easily believe the show took place in the 50s. Both Judy and Fran change costumes frequently, really showcasing the prowess of the wardrobe department, dresses ranging from soft technicolour pastels to pastel roses to lemon-yellow gingham. Each change is made quickly and with a flourish.
The show itself asks a multitude of interesting questions, interrogating not just the audience but also itself. Johnny worries that assuming this role is eroding Judy’s identity, as it did many women restricted to being wives and mothers instead of individuals. At the same time, though, there is the element of choice. Judy’s mother’s suggestion that Judy has been brainwashed or forced into this removes her autonomy as much as if she had been coerced into it, as does her scathing disappointment. Laura Wade clearly set out to do an effective job of showing that one can critique the traditional roles women have previously been made to occupy without discrediting the women themselves.
Words by Casey Langton
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