When a friend handed playwright Peter Stallwood a bundle of 100, century-old letters little did he know of the story they would contain and the devastation they’d tell of what one family endured during the First World War.
Nearly a hundred years to the day since the end of the conflict that led to it, Wokingham Theatre’s original new production of My Dear, Dear Boy dramatised the true story Cyril Maddox, his mother Emmaline, and how their lives were forever changed by the greatest conflict the world had ever seen.
The production was masterfully and sensitively handled by its directors, Thomas Joy and Jessica Hadleigh, capturing just the right balance of darkness and light. The interweaving within Stallwood’s script of dialogue and letters between Cyril and family members is a wonderful dramatic device. The letters are so banal, often becoming a simple list of things they could send him to ease his time at the front.
And they have a local connection, as Cyril at one point asks ‘how far is it from Woking to Wokingham?’ as he considers cycling there while on officer training.
The letters are laced with love, loss and loyalty. It would have been all too easy for them to disrupt the action of the story, but they did quite the opposite. They brought these people to life in their own words, an experience almost unique in its delivery.
One of the cleverest techniques employed by the play was the (at times unbearable) dramatic irony that came with our historical knowledge of the First World War. Emmaline makes reference to the fact that Cyril is soon to be moving to the Somme, and is hopeful of the outcome.
Of course, we know only too well how this turned out, with the British Army suffering 420,000 casualties at the battle. Cyril was among them, suffering a surface bullet wound that took him back to Blighty for recuperation, where he learns his younger brother has lied about his age and enlisted in the army as well.
As an extra to its season, the theatre allowed itself the luxury of experimentation, with adults joining members of the youth theatre to form the cast.
The ensemble of soldiers was all played by under 18s, a fact that further highlighted the human cost of war. Seeing these young men banter about girls they wanted to sleep with, going out drinking and mocking their superiors would not have been out of place in any bar on a Friday night. Except these young men, like so many others, were killed in action 100 years ago.
Playing Cyril’s parents, Hedda Bird and Peter Pearson’s performances were beautifully underplayed.
Bird especially managed to capture the agony of a mother whose son is on the battlefront asking for more socks as his has holes in, supported by a lovely performance from Victoria Paterson as her sister, Mollie.
Cyril’s three siblings were also a delight, as Clare Bray, Harry Bradley and the ever-so-charming – and youngest member of the cast – Bryony Thornton showed what a tight unit the Maddox family were. Their commitment to their roles only made the story more personal and more devastating, and indeed, it was the son of Thornton’s character, Ruthie, who first handed his family’s letters to our playwright.
Military figures were captured to perfection by Mike Paterson and Simon Vail, with a scene between two senior officers discussing Cyril’s suitability for officer training a much-needed moment of dark comedy in the play.
It received tuts and headshakes from the audience for their shock at Cyril’s sobriety, lack of ‘good schooling’, and the fact his father was a piano salesman, despite how well he performed in exams and his relationship with the men.
The star of the show was, without question, its leading man, or rather, boy, Andrew Csukai, who played Cyrill Maddox. Only 15, Csukai gave a beautifully innocent performance of the young officer, completely believable, and extraordinarily ordinary in its execution.
The split-stage set was simple and flexible, beautifully managing to capture 1900s household life on its left and the changing military environment on its right. Little did we know that this would culminate in the play’s most heartbreaking moment, as Emmaline reads her son’s final letter.
Standing only a few inches away from each other, they allow themselves a final look as he stands among his fallen men on the battlefield, before eventually falling himself.
Sound and lighting designer Matthew Edwards’ subtle touch to the plays technical elements was utterly compelling, with no detail left unattended to. A piano practice offstage to the left was swiftly followed by battle noises to the right, and the directors’ choice of operatic music helped the play reach its breathtaking crescendo.
This was known as the war to end all wars, with a sense of national grief unlike no other. But I have never seen something that so beautifully captures the sense of loss from one, simple, loving family, told in the words of those who lived through it. This was a masterpiece of humanity, and I am so glad I got to see it; my only criticism is that the run did not go on for longer so more people could see it.
SOPHIE PIERCE
