Brassed Off

BRASSED OFF IS INCREDIBLY POWERFUL AND IS A MUST-WATCH

The 1996 film of Brassed Off has been on my must-watch list for years, yet it has never quite made it to the top. For all its stellar cast (including a pre Obi Wan Ewan MacGregor, as well as the ever-glorious Pete Postlethwaite), there always seems to be something else to watch. I think to a certain extent that is because I’ve never really been 100% clear on what sort of film it is. It seems to be pitched (excuse the pun!) as a comedy, yet at the same time the setting indicates a potential grittiness that may hint at more of a Mike Leigh-esque story. Am I going to laugh or cry – or perhaps like The Full Monty or Billy Elliott, will it be a bit of both?

This is part of the reason why I jumped at the chance to see this production at The Octagon – after all here was a solid, non-negotiable excuse to watch it. The other reason is that there has been a simply stellar run of productions at The Octagon of late, and I love both the intimacy and the immediacy of the staging.

So I set off with expectations high if a little undetermined. And I’m not sure that I could really have anticipated what a powerful story Brassed Off is, nor realised just how relevant and prescient I would find its messages of social injustice, inequality, poverty and community.

Brassed Off, written by Mark Herman, (The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas, Little Voice) and adapted by Paul Allen (Radio 4’s Kaleidoscope) is set in the 1990s during the decline of the British coal mining industry. The story takes place in the fictional South Yorkshire town of Grimley, where the local colliery faces closure, threatening the jobs and future not just of the miners but of the entire town and its community. At the heart of the town’s identity is the Grimley Colliery Brass Band, and the story focuses on the band members, and how the mounting pressures of the mine’s possible closure affects them, their families and their sense of identity.

Liz Stevenson’s production is absolutely steeped in the mines. The staging is minimalist, comprising a matt black floor with nothing but a broken conveyor belt surrounded by discarded coal to recreate the dark mines. A huge broken wheel overshadows the whole stage and dry ice adds a smoky atmosphere.

The story unfolds through the eyes of Shane (Andrew Turner (Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, Father Brown, Coronation Street)), now a middle-aged man but an 8 year old boy at the time. Turner gives a delightful performance, perfectly capturing Shane’s wide-eyed innocence, pre-teen cheekiness and bewildered naivety at the events happening around him. His confusion as he watches the adults in the room struggle against circumstance, and his unwavering belief that his Dad and Grandad are infallible, makes for a powerful narrative.

Shane’s Grandad is Danny, the aging yet determined conductor of the Band, played by Russell Richardson (The Siege, Poirot, Last Tango in Paris). Danny is unwavering in his commitment to the band, at times to the detriment of all else. His belief in the power of music is uplifting, yet it jars when he demands his son, Phil, buys a new trombone at a time when Phil is struggling to put food on the table for his young family.

Phil is performed by Joey Hickman (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Oliver!, A Christmas Carol) in what is undoubtedly the most powerful performance of the evening. Phil is a deeply complex character – a hero from the strikes of the 1980s, a loyal son, doting father and loving husband; his scenes with on stage wife Sandra - played with real soul by Daneka Etchells (Supernova, All of Us, Miss Julie) – are deeply touching. Yet Phil is also a thief and an idealist who puts his principles before the reality of caring for his family.  Hickman brings all these facets together with nonchalant charm that makes his attempted suicide in the second half all the more devastating. His ‘clown’ scene really is an acting masterclass, moving from laughter and jokes to vindictiveness to despair in a way that is incredibly uncomfortable to watch.

A budding romance provides a counterpoint to the main story. Hannah Woodward (Dick Wittington, Sleeping Beauty, The Wizard of Oz) plays Gloria, a former resident of Grimley who returns to the town as a management consultant, working for the company that will decide the fate of the mine. She rekindles a relationship with her teenage crush, Andy (Barney Taylor (Shakespeare and Hathaway, Nuremberg, Grantchester)), a miner and band member. I really enjoyed watching Woodward and Taylor together on stage, they provide some sweet and tender moments between more dramatic scenes.

Light relief is provided by Harry – performed by Matt Ian Kelly (What’s Wrong with Angry, I am Star Trek, Breaking the Band) – and his brother Jim, played by Greg Patmore (Law and Order UK, Hatfield and McCoys, Forever Manchester). Both actors were superb on stage, playing off each other and delivering some joyous one liners that had the audience laughing and occasionally cheering. Yet again both characters also had powerful moments – for example I was very touched by Harry’s monologue about wanting to see an elephant in the wild just once in his lifetime.

Their ever-suffering wives Vera (Joanna Holden (Cirque du Soleil, Hull Truck)) and Rita (Maxine Finch (Provoked, A Change in the Weather, DCI Banks) bring different perspectives to the impact of the closure, not least a focus on how much the settlement money could change their lives, if only for a short time.

It is perhaps unsurprising though that the real star of this show is the music itself. Not only can all the cast play brass instruments themselves to an extremely high level, but the cast is supplemented by members of the renowned Wingates Brass Band and Eagley Band. Their presence brings the musical performance to a whole new level and – through a clever choice of scoring – adds layers of emotions to each scene. The musical performances are generous, with several pieces performed and I enjoyed the richness that this brought to the overall production. Perhaps the funniest scene of all is the regional championships scene, where some of the Band members are getting increasingly drunk whilst playing, but for the sheer, pulse raising thrill, the William Tell overture at the end ticks every box.

For me, this brilliant production of Brassed Off just feels incredibly relevant at this moment in time. Whilst a fictional account, the story is rooted in historical facts, and I had an overwhelming feeling of watching part of my own history on the stage. These are our stories and – at a time when we have seen the terrible impact of division in a community, not least in Bolton itself – it feels like these are stories which must and should be heard. The overall content is difficult and there are definitely scenes which are not appropriate for pre teens, but otherwise this is an incredibly powerful production that I would recommend everyone take an evening to watch, to hear, and very much to enjoy.

WE SCORE BRASSED OFF...