(Photo by Jake McKeown)
With an adroitly conceived stew of song, dance, audience participation and storytelling, this latest production from Bristol based group Riddlestick Theatre delivers a show that brims with entertainment and outright silliness. As stated on the group’s website, Barleycorn is inspired by English lore, folk horror and ‘wyrd’ television programmes of the 1970s. Writers Kate Stokes and Thomas Manson have thus taken these influences and infused them into a musical comedy both immersive and full of homespun appeal.
In the fictional village of Hopley Drew an entire rain-soaked summer has resulted in mass floods, but its people are nonetheless determined to persevere with the annual village show. Local watering hole The Barleycorn Inn – named after mythic hero John Barleycorn (Alison Cowling) – has been slated as an alternative venue, it offering shelter, and a chance for one last knees-up before the pub is torn down by developers. But who or what exactly is or was John Barleycorn? An illusive spirit that imbues the local beer with magical, but apparently pugnacious properties, or a sort of disgruntled god responsible for the raging storm that approaches the village?
The 75 minute play is effectively segmented into three elements: song interludes featuring live instrumentation from four of the show’s six performers (guitar, accordion, cello and recorders), moments of audience participation – including a turnip judging contest and three brave souls taking to the stage for a gurning competition – and the storytelling elements covering both the village’s myths and legends, and the present day narrative surrounding the village show.
The choice to bookend the show with two songs containing lyrics handed out before audience members took to their seats is an effective one, ensuring that we are engaged both immediately the show begins and as the performance wraps up. The first of these, ‘Country Life’, contain verses that effectively serve as an intro to the village characters and immediate contact with the show’s humour (the lyric referencing erstwhile PM Teresa May and her beloved wheatfields is a nice touch).
(Photo by Jake McKeown)
The narrative sections contain a madcap DIY-ness in the boundless energy and assuredness of the performances, and the knowingly daft utilisation of visual props. Brown paper bags are amusingly adopted to allow George Meredith, otherwise appearing as villager Irn-Bru Stu, to morph into John Barleycorn’s Bête Noire trio The Three Men from the West. The story of the Trout Sisters is a standout section featuring a very funny faux-seductive dance by Stokes, and the simple but effective use of blue roll and a skateboard to depict a river and rowboat respectively.
The confidence and vigor with which all performers deliver their lines assure that even the show’s weaker jokes land with a certain likeability. Manson, in between bouts of acoustic guitar, stands out in his role as theologically bereft Reverand Rob and, though she takes a backseat as an actor, Sophie Jackson’s eerie stirrings of cello provide a dramaturgical edge to counterbalance the pervasive silliness. Ashley Scott deftly embodies Georgie, a scrappy upstart determined to finally gain the respect of his peers.
Aside from Meredith who, as the village’s (and the show’s) Scotsman, sticks to his own accent, there are some hammy Bristolian accents on display. Though, admittedly, it’s such a ridiculous accent in general that even a native is struggling to ascertain whether Cowling’s (also playing villager Willow) Wurzel-on-steroids twang is genuine or not.
Though the show contains subtle thematic undertones – gentrification, climate change and conspiracy thinking are all lightly touched upon – it seems quite clear that Riddlestick’s agenda is one centring around fun and unabashed daftness. Helped by the show’s interactive elements, it also does a fine job in effectively evoking a certain kind of rural Britishness – one can almost smell the hay, the countryside and cider. Barleycorn is a highly enjoyable slice of pastoral charm.
Scott Hammond