November 14, 2007
In this new play set in a dystopian, post-global warming future, a group of struggling writers try to find a way to kill off the cast of a long-running sit-com in the least spectacular way possible. All the worst things have survived: class (Britain is divided into ‘the scrubs’ and ‘the Orchard’, an 80,000-acre gated community), racism (Africans are dying in their millions, the rich whites retreat from hordes of refugees), and the general painfulness of human relationships.
The post-apocalyptic scenario serves up some specific food for thought, and provides the context for the relationship between Edward, whose daddy owns ‘the Orchard’ and wangles him a work-experience placement with Charlotte, who is having an affair with Edward and thus cheating on her boyfriend, fellow writer Sebastian. Edward is a thoroughly despicable individual who combines the worst of the conservative Malthusianism one finds in contemporary environmentalism with the added cynicism that comes with living in an over-populated world of 11 billion people and being isolated, via grotesque wealth, from their plight. For him, the indulgence of caring is a thing of the past, made impossible by circumstances, and the only refuge is a snobbish aestheticism. Charlotte, the passionate activist, embodies the supposedly progressive side of environmentalism, but she is drawn to Edward as her commitment to a long list of irritating political causes (‘to get lost is a political act’, she declaims at one point) is revealed to be as thin as her goal in life, ‘to make oneself as small as possible’ and have ‘the carbon footprint of an insect’. Rather isolated from this clash is poor, ratings-obsessed Sebastian, who runs his relationship with Charlotte in the same way he puts together his tired scripts, looking for structured repetition and in-jokes that will fire off the ‘laugh track’ that gives the play its name. Yet maybe he gets the last laugh after all, since his basic, earnest decency and his simple, grounded sense of meaning, seems ultimately preferable to Edward’s aestheticism and Charlotte’s trendy martyrdom.
The young cast does well. Suzannah Herbert is excellent as the conflicted Charlotte, alongside Rupert Cohen, who makes a promising Oxford debut as Sebastian: both have a stage presence that allows them to pull off older characters with maturity. By contrast, Matt Franks is weaker – despite good moments, there are rather too many face scrunches, hand waves, and head shakes to be believable, and his awkward physicality with Herbert just doesn’t square with Edward’s brash character. A real gem is Katie Murphy as Michelle, another writer on the show, in an appropriately understated and funny performance, and John Maher plays an entertaining supporting role as George, the ‘Stalinist’ director. The acting does wobble occasionally, however, seeming especially weak at moments of emotional confrontation, and lines are sometimes garbled. It’s not clear exactly what Asia Osborne, the director, was aiming for here: the show is very fast-paced, but if the goal was to imitate the quick-fire dialogue of David Mamet or Aaron Sorkin, this was lost as words were swallowed up, and the cast would have benefited from a more measured approach.
That said, this is an intelligent play, with plenty of ideas and challenging themes that play out with a pleasing symmetry, and it manages to carry its weight lightly and with good humour. Tom Costello’s Laugh Tracks is a promising piece of student theatre, making good use of the intimate space at the Burton Taylor theatre, and is worth a thought-provoking hour of anyone’s time.
The post-apocalyptic scenario serves up some specific food for thought, and provides the context for the relationship between Edward, whose daddy owns ‘the Orchard’ and wangles him a work-experience placement with Charlotte, who is having an affair with Edward and thus cheating on her boyfriend, fellow writer Sebastian. Edward is a thoroughly despicable individual who combines the worst of the conservative Malthusianism one finds in contemporary environmentalism with the added cynicism that comes with living in an over-populated world of 11 billion people and being isolated, via grotesque wealth, from their plight. For him, the indulgence of caring is a thing of the past, made impossible by circumstances, and the only refuge is a snobbish aestheticism. Charlotte, the passionate activist, embodies the supposedly progressive side of environmentalism, but she is drawn to Edward as her commitment to a long list of irritating political causes (‘to get lost is a political act’, she declaims at one point) is revealed to be as thin as her goal in life, ‘to make oneself as small as possible’ and have ‘the carbon footprint of an insect’. Rather isolated from this clash is poor, ratings-obsessed Sebastian, who runs his relationship with Charlotte in the same way he puts together his tired scripts, looking for structured repetition and in-jokes that will fire off the ‘laugh track’ that gives the play its name. Yet maybe he gets the last laugh after all, since his basic, earnest decency and his simple, grounded sense of meaning, seems ultimately preferable to Edward’s aestheticism and Charlotte’s trendy martyrdom.
The young cast does well. Suzannah Herbert is excellent as the conflicted Charlotte, alongside Rupert Cohen, who makes a promising Oxford debut as Sebastian: both have a stage presence that allows them to pull off older characters with maturity. By contrast, Matt Franks is weaker – despite good moments, there are rather too many face scrunches, hand waves, and head shakes to be believable, and his awkward physicality with Herbert just doesn’t square with Edward’s brash character. A real gem is Katie Murphy as Michelle, another writer on the show, in an appropriately understated and funny performance, and John Maher plays an entertaining supporting role as George, the ‘Stalinist’ director. The acting does wobble occasionally, however, seeming especially weak at moments of emotional confrontation, and lines are sometimes garbled. It’s not clear exactly what Asia Osborne, the director, was aiming for here: the show is very fast-paced, but if the goal was to imitate the quick-fire dialogue of David Mamet or Aaron Sorkin, this was lost as words were swallowed up, and the cast would have benefited from a more measured approach.
That said, this is an intelligent play, with plenty of ideas and challenging themes that play out with a pleasing symmetry, and it manages to carry its weight lightly and with good humour. Tom Costello’s Laugh Tracks is a promising piece of student theatre, making good use of the intimate space at the Burton Taylor theatre, and is worth a thought-provoking hour of anyone’s time.