Been There, Done That? Get to the Intimate

The thing about being Capetonian is you can’t really live anywhere else without feeling – in some small way – you’ve downgraded. This counts double if you happen to have moved somewhere chilly. Double again if it happens to be London. Sure, the pounds compensate, the tube is lekker, but…well, quite.

The South African characters of Done London who, in time-honoured local fashion, have ‘taken the gap’ to seek fame and fortune in London are left dealing with this conundrum.

Of the three SA housemates, Kate is fighting jangling hormones, Jax is dating a Pom with a travel phobia and Sue’s dead keen on joining the army. When Bryan sets up an extended spell of couch crashing in this all-female SAffer digs, cracks begin to show in an otherwise unremarkable work abroad experience.  Life in London: not all it’s cracked up to be. Or is it?

If the set-up sounds familiar, that’s because it is. Curiously, the piece comes across rather as an episode of your favourite sitcom. Indeed, you’d be forgiven for thinking you’d landed up on the set of a local spin-off of ‘Friends.’ Sure, the characters are more Groot Gat than Big Apple and the setting more Hyde than Central Park, but the formula remains. There’s the quirky blonde ditz, the nerdy hopeless romantic, the lovestruck shopaholic, the naughty-but-nice ladies man. There’s even a foreign barman – though his preference runs more to liquor than lattes. They all – at one point or another – live together in one heaving Hoxton digs.

This play speaks to a generation of twenty-somethings who’ve traded wide open spaces for a semi-detached in Wimbledon. Now that the two year UK work visa option has been revoked, Done London presents a particularly poignant picture of a generation of gap year-ers. A hopeful Southern Hemisphere lot hopelessly out of place in a dingy big smoke. This play will, I think, strike a chord with Gen Ex(pat) – those who’ve been there, done that and returned to tell the tale.

Speaking of telling the tale, the Intimate Theatre is a wonderful venue for allowing relatively new theatre makers a cost-effective run. It’s great to see new scripts from young writers get an airing, but much of the time these are just the scripts that need the money spent on them – rehearsal time to develop and remodify. Sometimes this particular script falls a bit short, with character development never really being achieved.

For the most part, though, actors work well with the material, delivering some strong performances. Mark Elderkin’s impeccable comic timing makes for one hysterically funny Eastern European disgruntled barman – a definite highlight. Julia Anastasopoulos and Deborah Vieyra also delivered solid performances, with Vieyra’s workout-obsessed, plat-voweled Sue being a particular delight.

A friend pointed out how lovely it is to see a large cast production on stage. It’s true, budget constraints tend to give us a glut of interesting two handers on CT independent stages and in this respect Done London is a real treat.

A word to the wise: the Intimate Theatre has no aircon. If it’s a hot night – and it probably will be – you might find yourself a little uncomfortable. Perhaps the greatest testament to the actors is the fact that, in 40 degree heat and padded jackets, they still managed to carry off the air of winter chill. Not being an actor myself, I strongly recommend light clothing.

Done London isn’t highbrow. It doesn’t pretend to be. It’s pop theatre, pure and simple. You watch it for the same reason you’d watch your favourite sitcom – it’s funny, friendly and all-too familiar.

Seventy Rand for a tube ride? You’ve got to be bladdy kidding.

Seventy Rand for an evening’s laughs? Now that’s what I’m talking about, bru.