Laugh, cry, and raise your pint to the story theatre has been waiting for.
You may have spent lockdown glued to your desk, fanatic about at-home workouts, or baking too much sourdough, but Eilidh Loan spent hers talking to her dad. And it was those conversations, about his past, his friends, and his fight for a more meaningful life, that gave birth to her production Moorcroft: A “gritty tale” about the lives, and deaths, of a working-class Glaswegian amateur football team.
Loan opens and closes Moorcroft through two hilarious and heart-breaking monologues delivered with full conviction by lead Sean Conner, whose narration guides us through the events of the play. It must be mentioned that it is unfortunately rare for a theatrical space to be held not by RP English and Shakespearian dialogue but the dialect, vernacular and colloquialisms of a working class man from Glasgow. Undoubtedly, some in the audience may have at first struggled when directly faced with speech that defied the homogenous middle class voices usually represented, and unable to hide behind subtitles in the theatrical space, Loan immediately confronts our expectations and standards of the stories we regularly consume.
Other standout performances came from Tubs, played by Dyland Wood, and Garry, played by Martin Docherty. Their electric on stage presence and relationship, especially in the scenes addressing Tubs’s queer identity and Garry’s arrogant homophobia, felt fresh and real. This was a far cry from the numbing queer utopia of recent shows such as Sex Education and instead more grounded in the reality of queer identity in Scottish and working-class environments. Loan elegantly deals with such opinions surfacing head on, without risking a lack of sensitivity, or a subtlety too fine even to notice.
But it is not just the cast who should be attributed. The efforts of the crew did not go unnoticed in grounding the play in the glaswegian schemes of the 80s. Lighting, used conspicuously but effectively, simple sets, vintage costumes and especially the music – a glorious soundtrack of northern soul and 80s disco – are all effective in plunging the audience into this vivid culture. Whilst possibly a universal story of suffering, silence and spirituality the events that play out are also intrinsically connected to the time and place which they are set, as Paul exclaims “this doesn’t happen to rich folk.” And each staging element is essential to the wider message that Loan is trying to convey.
Most significantly, through Moorcroft, Loan allows space for each character just to be. Vulnerable, wrong, mean, depressed, horny. She, and each of the actors in turn, give space to address it, perhaps not to solve the issue of men’s mental health, or cancer, or alcoholism, or racism, or heart attacks. But to talk about it. A sentiment long expressed as the key, and perhaps cure, to the toxic masculinity much too prevalent in many communities such as this one, isolating men from men, friend from friend.
It is a disappointment to the world of theatre that it has taken this long to have this story told, but a celebration that it is finally here.
Image by Joe Connolly provided via press release.