Mail Online

MARK COOK

Sweden are the current favourites to win Eurovision in Liverpool in May, and if they host next year, it will be the 50th anniversary of Abba’s memorable win at the 1974 contest in Brighton.

I’m sure writer/actor and super-fan Ian Hallard – whose mother was pregnant with him when Waterloo triumphed, and later knitted him a pair of Agnetha-like blonde plaits – is well aware of this.

In his new play, directed by husband Mark Gatiss, he has penned a goodhearted comedy about friendship, obsession, being a middle-aged gay man who thrills to the melancholy and joy of the Swedes’ oeuvre, and setting up a drag Abba tribute band – as you do.

And which two old friends do here (the play’s title is an Abba track): Brummie Peter (Hallard) and Edward (mucho but not very macho gusto from James Bradshaw, the punctilious pathologist in Endeavour).

There are setbacks, of course, for the wannabe super troupers, including the rehearsal pianist, a mumsy, bespectacled Scottish lady (a scene-stealing Sara Crowe), having to step in as Benny, and the arrival of a smarmy Australian Abba obsessive (clearly a bad ’un). There’s some stereotypical gay banter, but some neat jokes too. Set in 2015, the digs are about the allure, or otherwise, of Coalition Clegg, and Peter’s observation about Abba that, ‘at least you’ll never be disappointed by their new material’ is nicely wry. Some of the performances are a little on the broad side in the intimate space of the Park Theatre, too.

At its heart, though, this is an endearing piece showing how

shared passions of even the nerdiest nature (and I write as a Eurovision fan) can bring about unlikely and long-lasting friendship.

Loss – of memory, of loved ones – is the over-riding theme of Marjorie Prime, a 2014 play by American Jordan Harrison was ahead of its time in suggesting that AI could help those suffering from dementia.

We see elderly Marjorie at the outset chatting to a handsome, if oddly stilted, chap in a suit. Turns out he’s a ‘prime’, an android recreating a young version of her husband Walter, who’s been dead for ten years. Played by a creepily bland Richard Fleeshman, he’s there as therapy and company.

But in this dystopian tale set in the near future, an android can only function via whatever is input – raising questions about identity, manipulation and reality. Which comes into play in the fractious relationship between Marjorie and her exasperated, resentful daughter (the excellent Nancy Carroll) and the festering wound of a family tragedy.

Set to the sound of ocean waves outside, the play’s fine cast of four is deftly directed by Dominic Dromgoole. Anne Reid in particular shines as the whipsmart, crotchety Marjorie, who fades sadly behind a placid half-smile. Despite a chilling final scene, though, it’s all a bit airless and unmoving.

DANCING QUEENS: Ian Hallard, Rose Shalloo, Sara Crowe and James Bradshaw in The Way Old Friends Do and, far left, Anne Reid in Marjorie Prime

Classical | Film

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2023-03-26T07:00:00.0000000Z

2023-03-26T07:00:00.0000000Z

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