THIRD FINGER, LEFT HAND To 4 June.

York

THIRD FINGER, LEFT HAND
by Adam Canavan

Theatre Royal Studio To 4 June 2005
Tue-Sat 7.45pm Mat 4 June 2.45pm
Runs 2hr One interval

TICKETS: 01904 623 568
www.yorktheatreroyal.co.uk
Review: Timothy Ramsden 31 May

Small but perfectly formed - and flawlessly acted.This is the kind of play it's a joy to come across, certainly in York's Theatre Royal Studio, whose intimacy it fits perfectly; no doubt at Edinburgh's Fringe Festival last year too. Though there's plenty that's downbeat about its story, Sonia Fraser's detailed, mood-fluid production, with its pair of unsimiliar sisters acted to life-like perfection by Angela Clerkin and Amanda Daniels, brings a life-enhancing energy that fits co-producer Nine Lives Productions' aim to celebrate the resilience of women.

Grace and Niamh have had a lot to be resilient about. Lancashire lasses both, their Irish father's shadow looms over them, becoming an unseen protagonist as they recall their childhood. Keeping quiet against neighbours, he dared the Nuns to expel the children whose school fees he wouldn't pay. A domestic bully to emotionally vulnerable (weak, as he'd see it) women, violent towards his daughters, by implication he cowed his wife, whose timid nature is made clear in a late scene recalling the pair's first meeting.

This father could infuse the family with happiness when in a bright mood, becoming fear-instilling, tooth-crackingly vicious in darker moods. The older, stylish Niamh, with her independent manner her father's daughter, is rarely a victim. Younger Grace, inheriting her mother's placidity, keeps taking the rap - when, for example, Niamh escapes temporarily to a 70s Northern Soul all-nighter at Wigan Casino.

Amanda Daniels' Grace is the result of surviving this; accepting a victim's life, discounting the shouting, slaps and wrenched hair, she takes what life brings and comes out still somehow smiling. Sitting casually, blonde hair falling loosely over her shoulders, she's the opposite of the considerably slighter Clerkin, with her black hair elaborately-styled, forever self-conscious and daring. Briefly playing her father as a young soldier at a dance, it seems natural Clerkin should so convincingly etch in a young male equivalent of her own lipstick-smacking self.

Niamh always puts herself first, refusing to visit their dying mother. It leads to a sisterly rift that's never quite identified. But such uncertainty reflects the characters' different preoccupation - how, with the onset of Niamh's illness, their relationship resumed, kind-of.

Clerkin, whose slght figure has revelled in dancing, especially to the title song, seems to shrivel as the disease takes hold, while Daniels, so often seen sitting - like her wallflower mother - makes clear lack of assertion doesn't mean lack of fire or individuality. They offer two detailed, exemplary performances in a strongly-written piece. This production must surely have a future life.

Grace: Amanda Daniels
Niamh: Angela Clerkin

Director: Sonia Fraser
Designer: Adrian Rees
Lighting: Judith Cloke

2005-06-01 11:50:48