Review: Technical Difficulties at Hull Truck Theatre

“…a joyously glitchy triumph of absurdist comedy…”

Technical Difficulties by Joe Venable (writer and co-lyricist) and Samuel Macdonald (composer and co-lyricist), Hull Truck Theatre

By Sean Sable

The first play I ever had a line in was a youth theatre production of Darby O’Gill and the Little People, where I played a local man at the pub with a drinking problem. It was the wild west of the 80s and, casual ethnic stereotyping notwithstanding, I played the dickens out of that character. I swayed, wobbled, hiccupped and stumbled my way through one of the worst Irish accents to ever abuse that fine country. And I loved every minute of it. It launched a career that spanned almost 20 years, from acting to directing and eventually teaching youth theatre for four years. And I will let you in on a secret: youth theatre is some of the most fun you will ever have as a performer. There is something electric about beginning as a group of near-strangers, looking around a room frothing with energy, and knowing that you are going to make something amazing together. Along the way, there will be forgotten lines, backstage meltdowns, costume malfunctions, jealous rivalry, true friendships forged and the obligatory flirtatious romance. In British Youth Music Theatre’s play within a play, Technical Difficulties, they embrace everything that makes these kinds of productions so magical by putting all the fun, foibles and fluffs centre stage.

Technical Difficulties marks BYMT’s first outing at Hull Truck. Written by Joe Venable, with music by Samuel Macdonald, the show was born, so the programme tells me, from a pitch that involved wooden spoons standing in for characters and a cardboard model theatre that collapsed mid-presentation (a true microcosm for a production if there ever was one). It was chosen by BYMT’s Young Company Panel (the group of young people who help select which shows the organisation stages each year) specifically for its comedic challenges and for its focus on the people who keep live theatre running when everything goes wrong. The script was tested and reshaped through school workshops and read-throughs with young performers over many months, and the disaster unfolding on stage is a well-oiled Rube Goldberg machine honed through that creative discovery. Last night’s cast only met their director, musical director and choreographer a fortnight ago—but you’d never know it from their absolute mastery of their parts.

The concept is simple: a group of roughly thirty students in a GCSE drama class are putting on a performance that determines their final mark. The stakes are high, and the absurdist comedy is even higher as the production is thwarted by their new state-of-the-art laser curtain that shocks anyone who tries to pass through and is stuck, permanently, in the “you shall not pass” position. Straight away we meet our eclectic cast, desperate to stage their English teacher’s magnum opus: a script titled “Villains”. We are introduced to every lovable Aldi-dupe movie villain imaginable, each with their own minor meltdown in progress. The pirate (definitely not Captain Hook) is three-timing his girlfriend, the evil clown (certainly not Pennywise), whilst the shark (Jaws who?) needs the loo so badly his eyes are watering. But trapped between a razor-wire border on the stage apron, locked auditorium doors, and a thirty-foot electrified fence of a fire curtain, the show must go on.

Punctuated by several rousing musical numbers, the show flips between on-stage chaos and backstage efforts to unravel an unfolding mystery: who sabotaged the curtain and why. As our faithful stage manager Rhona tries desperately to get the show back on track amidst rat problems (cured by creating a snake problem), missing sandwiches, stagehand flirtation and an assistant stage manager who doesn’t know his right from his left (the struggle is real), we meet an increasingly large cast of side characters who show up just to make their lives a little bit more difficult. From a PE coach-slash-director who makes them drop into push-ups, to stowaways from the nearby private school (complete with Nursey), this poor production can never get a break. One of the highlights of the evening was Headmistress Steelshaft and her gaggle of lackeys, bent on ensuring the production closes before it can even open. With a sassy villainy to rival Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada, her stony-eyed stare is matched only by her high kicks. I only wish I had time (or column inches) to mention every single part. From the footballer with the heart of a poet to the mean-girl costume designer who made me feel a little stabby, each character was memorable and fun.

The musical performances were absolutely infectious, and my ghasts are truly flabbered that the show has its own original score of absolute bangers. From a self-aware “Let the Suffering Begin” to Steelshaft’s scathing “Too Much Drama” to “We Kept Going”, each number was pithy and filled with some truly impressive choreography. The cast had wonderful voices, some of which felt almost West End-ready. Rhona’s voice was the evening’s most polished, with a confidence and clarity that reached the back row. Steelshaft’s voice had sass and verve that felt utterly piercing. Max managed to keep his deep baritone steady even through heavy accent work.

Live musical accompaniment was a welcome sight that elevated the production from good to great. Performing at the back of the stage, we were treated to a small stage band that included two young instrumentalists. The set was kept simple with blocking tape strewn wildly across the floor, equipment boxes and simple rolling flats that felt pitch-perfect. When they reached for a little more with a pirate ship and ocean, I was in giggles to see they used the time-honoured “fabric as sea” that every small production knows and loves. Keeping with the theme for the evening, the sound had occasional mic glitches, but taking a leaf out of the show’s book, the kids never let it slow their stride. The costumes were a joy, my favourites being the shark and the xenomorph, who looked like such visual non-sequiturs next to pirates and clowns that they provided constant comedy.

Whilst the kids were the true stars of the show, I have to hand it to the adults in the creative company as well. It is hard to build a performance where such a large cast all feel fully fleshed. So often scripts geared towards youth productions (such as a rock show that won’t be named) offer a handful of principal roles and an endless number of weak chorus and single-line roles that give the young performers a stage credit and little more. But Technical Difficulties is a masterpiece of shared storytelling. All the roles, even the smallest ones, have a fully developed arc and feel like important texture to the story. The curtain opens on chaos, but by the end, we know 35 characters—and we care about what happens to each and every one of them.

Technical Difficulties is a joyously glitchy triumph of absurdist comedy that makes you root for every last kid trapped behind that curtain. Get your tickets, just mind the rats and ignore the snakes.

Technical Difficulties plays at Hull Truck Theatre until Saturday 08 August. Tickets are available here.

Sean Sable is a Yorkshire-based freelance writer and editor specialising in Young Adult and Horror fiction, frequently at the same time. When she isn’t buried under a pile of books and manuscripts, she is looking for her keys and having extensive one-sided conversations, in Swedish, with her deaf cat. You can find her online at: www.seansable.co.uk