From women enjoying their newfound right to vote to the uncertainties of World War Two, to the microwave, smartphone and world wide web a lot has changed in England since 1929. But one thing that hasn’t is the theatrical leadership of the Maxwell family, helming productions at the Welwyn Garden City AmDram Society for nearly a century.
From this theatrical dynasty springs our protagonist, Hannah Maxwell, in a solo show that explores the amusing history of Welwyn Garden City AmDram, while simultaneously tugging apart theatrical conventions with gleeful abandon.
Prior to the show, several audience members were running late. Those who had already arrived watched as Maxwell paced the stage, did vocal exercises and sipped from a water bottle. It felt fittingly self-conscious: not part of the show, but not entirely apart from it either. There’s a reason why Maxwell didn’t do this prep offstage: she was building a rapport.
Eventually, she turned directly to face us and mimed punching through a window.
‘Fourth Wall? Broken. It’ll be about three more minutes, hope that’s okay' she said. We murmured our assent, and she swiftly mimed putting the wall back.
‘Forth wall back up’ she added.
When the play did start, we were treated to Maxwell’s delightful impersonation of her grandfather welcoming us all into the old music hall, and cajoling us into singing not one but two musical numbers - 'It’s a Long Way to Tipperary' and 'Pack Up Your Troubles'. This worked to get the audience in the right headspace to think about amdram in all its warm scruffiness.
We then meet the actual Maxwell on a train, the set for which consists of two chairs next to one another, facing forward (‘How else would you know I was on a train?’ Maxwell asks, before breaking down the shorthand behind prop design). In the full course of the show, she also riffs on the interval, the long, clunky blackouts and set changes ubiquitous to amdram productions, and countless other theatrical tropes.
We’re joining Maxwell on the journey from her longtime home of London back to Welwyn to see her family. On the trip, she reflects on her family’s legacy, her realisation she’s a lesbian, how queerness and amdram both clash and complement each other, and her adorably theatrical family, for whom the society is practically a religion. Throughout it all, she sings, dances, quips and recalls bits of musicals. There’s breathless showmanship here as if the show feels it must entertain us every single second, lest it loses our interest entirely (more on this in a minute).
It’s hard to make what is essentially an hour-long monologue, performed hundreds of times, sound off the cuff. But Maxwell did it with such ease, it felt surreal to read the playbook later and be reminded it was all carefully crafted. Maxwell is ridiculously charming, with a zippy alto voice and comedian’s timing (‘I’m a bit down because my team just lost… another election’). This is essential for a work like this, which could quickly slide into sentimentality in the hands of a lesser performer. As is, there’s a giddy openness to her delivery that makes the anecdotes feel immediate, like she’s holding court at the head of a pub table rather than a 100-seater on one of many tour dates.
That said, the one thing I missed in this production was the profundity that comes from going deep into a particular moment. The show never quite trusts us to stay with it through a challenge, so we’re not given the chance to relax into scenes. There are a few tense moments at the dinner table and in the rehearsal space as Hannah comes of age, but we’re primarily left ricocheting from one bit to the next. If this sounds disparaging: it’s not intended to be. It’s a joy to hurried place to place by this ball-of-energy performer, and the show is entertaining throughout.
We see an awkward and shy Maxwell coming out at 18, and a present-day Maxwell as a slickly confident queer Londoner - but we’re largely left out of that transformation. Things are lightly and lovingly touched on. A scene where Maxwell, indignant at the overwhelming heteronormativity of Welwyn - switches out her already reasonably queercoded shoe choice of converse for an even queerer pair of glittering doc martens, felt hilariously real. There’s a lovely, shimmering montage of Maxwell out partying too late and going home with someone the night before her birthday lunch in London that’s excellently executed. But the raw details -fictionalized or not - of how she found where she belonged are not explored. I found myself longing to hear her leave a voice message to an early girlfriend, or audition in London as a young adult - some way into this character’s journey. How did her childhood make her who she is? And how much of it did she have to leave behind to become herself fully? It’s not fully explored.
But the show, at its heart, is less of a narrative and more of a tribute, to both the Maxwell family history and to the sprawling possibilities offered by performing arts. This is a cheerful work that is perfectly gauged for the theatre. Bookended with audience participation (it ends with Maxwell getting six volunteers onstage for a little dance number) it doesn’t just tell us about the magic of amateur dramatics, it makes us feel it.
And, if she ever decides to stage an extended cut, you know I’ll be back.