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FARINGDON Community Dramatic Society celebrated its 80th production last weekend in A Tomb With A View.
Produced by Evelyn Stoodley, this archly-black comedy thriller, wittily penned by Norman Robbins, was so over-the-top one wonders only that FADS, not known for demure
discretion, has not discovered it before.
It concerns post-mortem activities of the immediate family and household of Septimus Tomb after his will is read.
All, it seems, have personal problems, mostly lethal. Head of the family - but
destined to lose it - is eldest son Lucien, played by Dave Headey, a madder-than-usual
scientist who operates from his laboratory in the East Wing.
"Man-about-the-house" is bossy sister Emily, Brenda
Keith-Walker, while another Monica, Carole White is, to put it mildly, a raving
nymphomaniac.
Putting in a stage appearance from time to time is the presumably harmless but completely barmy brother
Marcus - Nigel Murrin. He is persuaded to wear his best suit for the will-reading but usually declaims Shakespeare's immortal lines as Julius
Caesar, in full-dress toga, of course. He died murmuring naturally: "Et tu, Brute".
His attendant nurse Anne Franklin, in a subtly developing role, was played by Gail
Mander.
Eldest of the family is sister Dora, a gentle slightly fey soul, who
fretted more about her garden and home-made wine for chance visitors than the mayhem which soon surrounded her. |
As corpses accumulated, she thought her rose-beds were
looking rather ragged and "could do with a little more body in them".
Eileen Beames excelled in this role.
The first victim had been a lady, novelist, Freda Mountjoy, played by Mary Woodyer to whom the late
un lamented Septimus left the bulk of his vast for tune in gratitude for curing his insomnia.
She arrived in the family's bare-shelved library accompanied by her secretary Perry Potter ... a notably heavy role for Shaun Egan's debut but which he handled
superbly.
Tim Reeves, convincingly middle-aged for his role as family lawyer and Deirdre
Hamley, looking for once absolutely appalling as the family's forbid ding housekeeper were totally convincing.
The story-line was vaguely like the Ten Little Niggers, by Agatha
Christie. There all semblance ceases. This lot even had a werewolf sibling locked up in the cellars.
Sex, violence, murder ... it was all there. With mayhem aplenty.
While it might worry professional shrinks if it ever comes to their notice. I doubt there will
be any significant escalation in our local crime-rate. Malice aforethought on this
scale would reduce perpetrator and victim alike to helpless laughter.
It was that sort of evening. A perfect antidote to world-events and
weather. What more could one ask? Except, perhaps, like Oliver Twist. "more of the same."
IVY CURZON
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