Danny Lee Wynter's second play, Ilford Boy, now running at the Donmar Warehouse, is a warm but not cosy coming-of-age tale set in a rich East London milieu. The production, directed by Tim Sheader, teems with vulgar wit and life, backed by a host of fine performances.
While the plotting can be obvious and Wynter, born in 1982, is generous with the period details anchoring the play in 1980 and 1995, the overall effect is a proper riot.
Two Eras, One Family
The play opens in 1995 with a closure: callow biracial teenager Ted, played by Leo Whitfield Harris, brings a funeral floral arrangement for his grandmother, Eileen. His white mum Tillie, portrayed by Ria Zmitrowicz, sees his black father Ken, played by Gershwyn Eustache Jnr, only once a week, when he picks Ted up for boxing lessons and maybe spends the night. Gradually, their apparent uncoupled ease reveals a grimmer history.
In this household of women, Tillie's lackadaisically sardonic younger sister Ann, played by Charlotte Jaconelli, is about to have her first child with Hindu taxi driver Raj, played by Aaron Gill. Third sibling Jackie, played by Jodie McNee, henpecks her hapless husband Trevor, played by Cary Crankson. Tillie's black GBF Patrick, a dancer in the theatre played by Craig Stein, blows in and out as if he owns the place, his breezy chat about friends in hospital and his worsening cough sounding an ominous note.
Later, the three sisters, Ken and Patrick appear in their 80s youth, guzzling Ritz crackers, Malibu and spliff in the living room where Eileen plays her Barbra Streisand tapes. In both eras, the extended clan tosses around insults, offensive slurs and F-bombs with abandon. Wynter captures the camaraderie and affection uniting the characters, then gradually reveals the legacy of prejudice and violence dividing them. Patrick's preacher father rejects him; Ken's dad beats him and his mum.
Verve and Vividness
Sometimes the play is not subtle. Streisand and the stage represent an escape from a world of borstals and brutality. There are jokey references for in-the-know theatre audiences to 90s-era Lloyd Webber and the stage career of Adrian Lester, with Ken boggling at "a black man called Adrian?". There is also a nod to the time police raided the Vauxhall Tavern at the height of Aids paranoia in 1987, all wearing Marigold gloves, with compere Lily Savage snapping from the stage, "Have yer come to do the washing up?".
The first act ends with a terrific tap routine from Patrick to Don't Rain on My Parade, during which Peter McKintosh's suburban-semi set lights up with pink and blue neon. The second act turns on Ken bullying him into a vicious sparring session. Ted's climactic revelation is not exactly a surprise.
What impresses most is the verve and vividness of characters that could verge on the sitcom-ish. Zmitrowicz's Tillie bursts out of her mum's bathroom, bawling at her family to shut up: "I can't hear myself sh*t!". Her hurt at Ted's shruggy disdain and her complex feelings for Ken are powerfully felt. She, Jaconelli and McNee, plus Lindsey Coulson as matriarch Eileen in the 80s scenes, are hilarious, yet the humanity behind their brash facades is visible.
Standout Performances
It is not just the women. Patrick is beautifully played by Stein, even if the character errs towards the stock figure of the saintly fairy godmother. Raj also sails close to a stereotype until Wynter fills in some challenging details. Crankson's understated Trevor gets a touching late speech. Most impressively, Eustache gives an extraordinary performance of macho bombast and coiled menace as Ken, before revealing a terrible vulnerability.
Wynter lays on the period references thickly, but there is fun in spotting the signifiers: the cap-sleeved sweatshirts and bodycon dresses; the tape deck giving way to the Discman; the bottles of Piat D'Or. Wynter shares many traits with Ted, the weakest character, drawing the older generation with fine-grained humanity and zesty wit in this fantasy autobiography. Ilford Boy runs to 28 Nov at donmarwarehouse.com.
