Review: Suspicious Minds by Tom Fowler

Every now and then a radio play comes along that reminds you just how inventive, engaging and affecting this medium can be. Tom Fowler’s Suspicious Minds is one of those plays: a fresh, engrossing comedy romance that you’d swear takes place in at least 4D rather than audio alone.

Mark and Fran are in a painful part of their relationship, with the romance (and the sex) having long gone, only to be replaced by boredom and resentment. Fran’s fling with Greg brings things to a head. The misery and uncertainty of being 28-ish and unsure whether you’re wasting your time – it’s all there, and some of it is concentrated into a non-moving train outside Slough.

In hopes of reigniting the spark, Mark spends his recent inheritance on a time-travel holiday. It’s a sign of the confident writing and the charming, vulnerable performances of the leads that this departure doesn’t seem at all weird. There’s one of those don’t-worry-about-that conversations regarding the possible problems of time loops and we’re off on the ‘budget romance’ option – first stop, ancient Rome, then to Derbyshire in 1813 for a somewhat strained dinner and disastrous hunting expedition.

It’s not at all difficult to go along with this conceit, partly because hard-working holiday rep Simon is there to ensure that everything stays on track – or gets ‘fixed’ when it doesn’t. There’s an English Philip K. Dick aspect to the way the story unfolds (but the play is more coherent than that comparison might suggest).

Personally, I could listen to Fran and Mark talking about why they don’t have sex any more till the cows come home. I love their evasions and the sense of doubt about what they’ve invested in the relationship – and whether it’s time to cut their losses.

And then we’re aboard the Titanic on that fateful night in 1912. Mark and Fran become separated, with Mark spiralling into 1920s Berlin and then acquiring a ‘staff pass’ that lets him roam through time at will. He uses this power to return to the beginning of his relationship with Fran, filming their dates with the intention of proving to her that they did share something special and valuable.

But as Mark follows his five-years-ago self around, he realises that he hasn’t been a very attentive or generous partner. He watches the relationship decline and it’s mostly his fault. Meanwhile (if that makes sense) Fran is in the bar on the Titanic and the iceberg is looming.

Somehow Simon manages to reunite Fran and Mark at new year’s in New York in 1945. It’s time for them to face the reality that their relationship is over. But wouldn’t you know it – there’s one more destination left in their time-travelling holiday and no one’s getting out of here without hearing Elvis deliver Suspicious Minds.

Suspicious Minds was originally developed for the Pleasance at the Edinburgh Fringe. The radio version was directed by Sasha Yevtushenko. The cast are terrific, especially Susannah Fielding and Tom Mothersdale as the leads.

This moment exists, but soon it will stop existing. Use it to start listening to Tom Fowler’s Suspicious Minds.

Review: For the Love of Leo by Michael Chaplin, Series 1

I promised a full series review of Michael Chaplin’s For the Love of Leo, so here it is...

I enjoyed the series, which is well written, acted and directed. The characters were believable and the poshness of the milieu was cunningly disguised by setting the story in Scotland. I didn’t mind the canny radio trick used to resolve the sub-plot about housekeeper Sadie’s living arrangements (it’s easy to hide a spare empty house on radio). But I was disconcerted by daughter Laura’s sudden return from Antarctica and immediate retreat to the bathroom – surely she’d have phoned ahead?

The really unusual thing about this series is its structure. There are only four parts to a series that feels like it was meant to be six or more. While Leo’s investigation into Tamsin’s car accident is set up at the beginning of the series, Leo does little to follow it up. And then there’s a sudden return to the intrigue, courtesy of an anonymous call, right at the end.

Leo dallies with a different woman in each of the episodes and it’s hard to see why they’re attracted to him, or why their brief involvement with Leo tends to resolve the issues they’re having in their personal lives. Leo’s charming and talented and all, but he seems mostly bemused by the women. It’s as if each episode has a special guest whose main task is to distract Leo or help him inch his way back to normality after his sudden bereavement.

The suspended mystery at the heart of this drama will doubtless be addressed again in the next series. I hope they make more progress with it, though. I hope also the social range of Leo’s female visitors widens.

For the Love of Leo was directed by Marilyn Imrie and is a Catherine Bailey production for BBC Radio 4.

Review: The Ethical Hacking Bureau

The Ethical Hacking Bureau is a conspiracy-tinged romp about three women trying to expose corruption in government.

Is there a name for the genre where women band together to bend the law, defying - and exploiting - stereotypes as they go? I certainly feel like I've met Patricia Hodge's character before: the liberated, older middle-class lady who's making up for lost time as she challenges her boundaries.

The play deftly sneaks in some effective but non-preachy arguments about racism and attitudes to autism. Writer David Leddy has put a great deal of thought into establishing these characters and there's a definite 'series' feel to them. I want to know what injustice they tackle next.

Quibbles? I'm not sure about the 'recording as we go' trope used in the play. It's a little like the use of 'found footage' in movies: you sometimes find yourself wondering why a character has her recorder switched on and who's responsible for the edit. Yet capturing the bad guys condemning themselves is crucial to the plot, so this approach gets a pass. (Much harder to believe is the idea that any politician has the time or interest to devote to anything other than Br*x*t - but that's hardly the fault of the writer.)

Also...: This play contains invisible children. You know - a character's children are mentioned but not named or enumerated and there never seems to be any question about who's looking after them. They're described as 'small', so perhaps they just don't show up on radio.

With a 'what-the-hell's-going-on?' count of only 1, The Ethical Hacking Bureau is a lively and adventuresome piece which is fun to listen to and memorable. It was directed in Scotland by Kirsty Williams and previously heard in February 2017.

Review: Deceit, Desire and the Viking Helmet

Deceit, Desire and the Viking Helmet is a rambling tale told in songs and poems by its creator John Hegley. It begins with the purchase of a glasses case at a jumble sale, which sends John off to Cheadle Hulme where he falls for one Mrs Cooper. Will he win her heart or only a potato-like dog?

Hegley is joined by Graham Fellowes, who seems a little restrained – except when he appears as the phantom Mr Cooper, delivering a Shuttleworthian song that might suit Richard Hawley if he’s looking for a cover.

The combination of Hegley and Fellowes sets the whimsy-o-meter twitching in the red zone and the play has a tendency to sag as it attempts to keep going on a mix of charm, wit and punrequited love.

Last heard in 2016, Deceit, Desire and the Viking Helmet is an amiable listen and unmistakably Hegley. It was directed by Anne Edyvean for Radio 4.

Review: Me, Mum and Meena Kumari

Me, Mum and Meena Kumari is a powerful play about the challenges of being a carer – and trying to be true to yourself.

It’s based on a true story by lead actor Akbar Kurtha so we can guess that the more melodramatic aspects are lifted from life.

I’m doubtless reaching for the word ‘melodramatic’ as a way of justifying my own emotional reactions to this engrossing play. I found myself blinking back the tears and smiling broadly several times. The Bollywood breaks and the allusions to Dallas encourage us to consider how close our lives are to being fiction: we’re all of us struggling to be the authors and players of ourselves.

Love places terrible burdens on us, but sometimes we have to give into the madness.

Me, Mum and Meena Kumari was written by Samina Baig, based on a true story by Akbar Kurtha. Directed by Emma Harding.

Review: The Receiver of Wreck

The Receiver of Wreck is one of those off-kilter radio plays that snags you with a set of hooks you just can’t dislodge. Jen – played by Alice Lowe and very definitely not by Madeleine Wool – is a government official who travels to assess objects washed up on British beaches. Writer Ben Cottam assures us that the position of Receiver of Wreck does actually exist, though whether the real-life holder of the post also believes herself to be a Travelodge is currently unknown.

Jen travels to Fleetwood where the wreck of a fishing vessel involved in the Second Cod War appears on the beach. But, you know how it is: not everything is what it seems and it’s possible we should be thinking of alternative meanings of the word ‘receiver’. I won’t tell you how the play ends – but then I’m not sure I understand the ending. Or if it even ends. I’ll enjoy my puzzlement and if other listeners have a better idea of the denouement, they’re welcome to it. All I’ll say in my defence is that, well, it had been a long drive. And it was Fleetwood. In January.

Did I mention that certified national treasure Jane Horrocks plays the chipshop-owning Mayor of Fleetwood? She has rubber hands too. I hope I didn’t hallucinate the whole thing.

The Receiver of Wreck was written by Ben Cottam and directed by Alison Crawford on location in... Weston-Super-Mare.

Review: For the Love of Leo by Michael Chaplin, Episode 1

For the Love of Leo by Michael Chaplin promises to be an intriguing and engaging series. I’ve only listened to Episode 1 so far, an opening which makes deft use of the genre flexibility and tonal freedom of radio drama. It’s hard to pigeonhole this series – and that’s a real strength.

What kind of narrative beast is this? It could be a comedy. Leo’s mother, who is introduced early on, is talkative and funny. She is fond of making allusions and criticising other characters in ways that align her with the harmless but amusing next-door neighbour character often found in sitcoms. But when Leo talks to his absent daughter Laura over the web both characters express raw grief at their recent bereavement. It’s a surprising turn. The death of Leo’s wife Tamsin suddenly seems real rather than merely a pretext for a comedy of manners. And we now seem to be in the territory of family drama.

Then when Leo accepts an invitation from Tamsin’s business partner Margot to play golf, we seem to be pivoting back towards the comedy genre and perhaps even romantic comedy. Yet this is also the part of the story where Leo begins to question the circumstances of Tamsin’s death. As he wonders why Tamsin was in the area where her fatal car accident occurred, Leo seems to be leading us into the thriller genre. And Margot seems less like comic relief and more like a potential villain. These genre crossovers are further put into doubt by the status of the Sadie character, a young woman who comes to clean Leo’s flat and seems unduly moved at the sight of Leo’s portrait of Tamsin.

Do we believe in Leo as a linchpin character around whom events will revolve? Is he a romantic lead? Or is he going to turn out to be an amateur detective? We are so used to rigid consistency of tone in visual drama that the shifts in register that happen in this episode keep us off-kilter. The BBC offers ‘funny’, ‘sad’ and ‘wry’ – quite a mix.

It’s a measure of the strength of Michael Chaplin’s writing that these questions of genre and tone deepen the grip of the drama rather than distracting from the narrative. He also provides necessary exposition in efficient and unobtrusive ways. A great deal of contextual and historical information is presented in this first episode, rapidly creating a tangible world of potentially conflicting character motivations and a rich emotional palette.

Leo is a painter who is unable to paint. This is no paint-by-numbers drama: it is shaping up to be a subtle and compelling story. I’ll return to it when I’ve listened to the complete series.

For the Love of Leo is directed by Marilyn Imrie and is a Catherine Bailey production for BBC Radio 4.