Chris Eldon Lee reviews ‘Whisky Galore’, which is at the New Vic Theatre in Newcastle-Under-Lyme until Saturday 2nd June.
The Hebridean Islands of Great and Little Todday must be rather marvellous in May. Golden Eagles wheel over the rocky inlets. Grey Seals bask on the white Atlantic beaches. And there is an endless supply of free whisky – with such romantic names as Thistle Cream, Annie Laurie and Morning Gold (to be consumed well before the sun is below the yard arm).
The only problem is finding them. Like Brigadoon, the isles only surface periodically – once, or sometimes, twice a day, and never on the Sabbath. And the only map is to be found within the pages of the New Vic Theatre programme … for their current co-production of ‘Whisky Galore’.
For these neighbouring islands sprang, 70 years ago, from the imagination of Compton McKenzie who wrote them into a novel based on the running aground of a ship carrying 264,000 bottles on whisky; most of which were salvaged by the wily Hebrideans and cunningly hidden from His Majesty’s customs officers.
If the story is familiar, it’s probably because you’ve spent a Sunday afternoon watching the 1949 Ealing Comedy on the box, or, just last year, saw the re-make with Eddie Izzard and Gregor Fischer.
Now it’s on stage and on tour, employing a most unlikely conceit to permit its presentation by an all-female cast.
I’d never heard of the Osiris Players; a brave band of women who took Shakespeare into East London elementary schools for 40 years. They were clearly inspirational – and must be the only theatre company ever to tour in two Rolls Royce cars.
So, this production is designed to be a tribute to them, as well as to Compton McKenzie. The uneasy snag is there is no real connection between the two …and I am not quite sure what women wearing moustaches adds to the telling of the tale; though there was no shortage of light laughter as they cross-dressed and hammed-up their way through it.
It’s a loose, bare-bones production, which relies on good characterisation, imaginative staging and cardboard cut-out scenery … with a flatulent dog to liven up proceedings. The byplay is good fun and the workings of tiny, manipulative minds are entertaining to witness. There is, for example, plenty of island gossip about who is keen on who, and who would have to change their religion to win their bride.
Meanwhile, the feckless Home Guard has very little to do except bemoan the absence of whisky in wartime. One resident is rumoured to have even died due to a lack of it. It takes almost an hour before the SS Cabinet Minister spills her cargo and the islanders get to work rescuing the bottles and tasting (I hope) various shades of cold tea.
The cast of seven do a grand job, comfortably slipping between no fewer than 30 parts. Isabel Ford shines as the frustrated, hidebound, Dad’s Army captain and Shuna Snow is excellently manly as the stiff-armed, lovelorn, squaddie Fred. Three of the cast take turns at playing the voluptuous blond-bombshell barmaid, Annag; and earn extra guffaws when two of them think it’s their turn at the same time.
They are certainly playing with our imaginations, as COOP removal boxes become cars, bars and boat; and the use of a spotlight on a stand as a rotating lighthouse is so obvious, it’s brilliant.
Having had no whisky at all, in the end they have so much to spare, they’re washing their hands in it. “This is the greatest night of our lives”, they cry.
It probably was one of the greatest film-going nights of 1949. On stage, last night, the story somehow seemed slow and laboured. It works very nicely as a nostalgic nod to a bygone age. Younger audiences tend to expect more punch and panache; more to get their teeth into. So, I reckon it’s gentle night out for we ‘oldies’.
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Photo : Joel Chester