Shakers Re-Stirred at Knutsford Little Theatre

I was Shaken and Stirred by Shakers: Re-Stirred

The Knutsford Little Theatre has, over the past year, played host to an exceptional programme of plays.

Returning to the theatre to watch Shakers: Re-Stirred written by John Godber, I was reliably informed by the programme that this play would mark a ‘change of pace’ from their previous offering Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

On a surface level, this is, in many ways, true. Upon entering the theatre you are greeted with a neon sign, brandishing the name of the bar in colours almost as loud as the characters we are about to meet. Having the actors on stage before the lights go down can sometimes seem a little clichéd and gimmicky.

The choice to do this here somewhat evaded that fate, with the four waitresses silently judging the audience as they wandered in – a sign of things to come.

The set is quite simple, but reasonably effective, with the Shakers bar looking like it has been pulled straight out of Manchester in the 1980s. I was initially slightly bemused by the choice to have no props at all, with the waitresses miming serving cocktails and that famous seafood pasta.

The reasoning for this soon became clear since, as the play went on, the number of glasses and alcohol bottles would’ve eclipsed that of a student flat. The one directorial choice that did take me out of the immersion slightly was a superficial one.

The music varied wildly, with the bar in one instance playing Berlioz-esque background jazz (à la Gusto or Alberts) and the next, Sheena Easton’s Morning Train (though I do have to forgive this choice as I love a bit of Sheena!) This is only a light criticism however, and for the most part, the immersion is really well executed with the set being repurposed for each new sketch.

The play is laid out in a series of sketches, revolving around the aforementioned bar and its four waitresses: Perrine Duchesnes’ Carol, Cheryl Chamberlain’s Adele, Amy Thewlis’ Nicky, and Natalie Normanton’s Mel. Each actor was tasked with playing multiple roles throughout which, whilst sometimes leading to some confusion, allowed for a great deal of scope in performance.

You sympathise with Duchesnes’ Carol, but find yourself wincing at the ‘finance bro’ caricature she embodies later – you are touched by Cheryl Chamberlain’s Adele, then find yourself raising your eyebrow at her portrayal of one of ‘the lads’; a testament to the quality of acting given by all four performers.

The performances were all round strong with each character given their moment to ‘shine’ – this being visualised well with a bright white spotlight upon the character in their ‘emotional moment’. Particular credit must be given to Natalie Normanton who was brilliantly entertaining in all of the roles she embodied through the play, with her observational portrayal of a clothing shop employee a highlight.

At face value, the play is a comedy, and it is indeed very funny.

The chemistry between the four actors on stage worked well, a happy result of their off-stage banter I am sure (something I was witness to in meeting the cast after the performance). The jokes were surprisingly contemporary for a play written in the 80s and reworked in the 90s.

The only moment that truly dated the play came when a customer recoiled in horror at cocktails costing ‘£3 for a small and £7 for a large’. I would task anyone to find a cocktail bar in the surrounding area where you could get a mere Diet Coke for £3! However, I came away from the play not with the sense that I’d watched a comedy, but rather that I had watched a deeply challenging and emotionally complex play.

The story of the play revolves around the waitresses, and throughout the play we follow the ups and downs of life in the service industry, with the play offering a compelling argument against ever going into such employment.

The women are continually harassed and sexualised by the customers, with the male customers in particular treating the waitresses in a distinctly disturbing manner. With only the four actors on the stage, we are often left without sight of the customers (aside from when they are portrayed by any combination of the actors), this then giving the sense that we too are the guilty party. This does lead to a great deal of self reflection – I did wonder how many of the audience members saw anything of themselves in the demanding, condescending clientele of the bar.

It is however the commentary on casual – and overt – sexism which makes this play most compelling. Be it in the sexist remarks of the sleazy men, the judgemental image pushing of the birthday girls, or even the ways in which the waitresses themselves judge and degrade one another – you’d be forgiven for thinking you were watching a Willy Russell play with this dark cocktail of humour, prejudice, and existentialism.

This is all played extremely well by the four actors, with the play coming to a climax with an excellent performance from Thewlis in Elaine’s breakdown. You really feel for her as she spirals into a sobbing mess upon the floor, rejected by the elusive ‘Andy King’ – a man who by my estimations (seemingly shared by the director Jim Broughton) was far from worthy of the mythical status bestowed upon him by all other characters in the play.

It was in this scene and the few that followed that saw the darker themes that had been bubbling beneath the witty dialogue, rise to the surface. Elaine is left alone at night by her friends, with the waitresses then going on to narrate the awful experience of walking home late at night.

I feel woefully underqualified to tackle the heft of the themes in ‘Shakers’ – I am not a woman, nor have I ever worked in the service industry.

The themes of sexism, discrimination, and the difficulties of balancing work life with your private life, are not themes that are unique to ‘Shakers’, but what I think is most compelling about this play is the way in which the story is told, and it is a testament to the performances of the cast and the direction of Broughton that this humour is balanced with the darker undertones.

We are lulled into a false sense of security by the play, inebriated by the comedy and the quick bantering dialogue of the waitresses.

But as the lights come up, you aren’t left feeling merry, you’re left feeling shaken, and you’d be forgiven for needing a stiff drink.