The Kitchen Sink, Tom Well's brilliant new play at The Bush's new digs, has everything...not only BUT the receptacle in question but INCLUDING it. If the kitchen is the heart of every home, in this case it is the soul, and the five ensemble members of the cast do a brilliant job of baring both. The play tells the story a Yorkshire family in transition. Each character is very believable, and ultimately, likable. The father (Steffan Rhodri), a gruff milkman whose dilapidated mik float is symptomatic of a business on its last legs, is perhaps the hardest to appreciate, but like everyone else, he sort of grows on you. Son Billy (Ryan Sampson), a gay artist who decamps for London Art College on the strength of his unintended unique interpretation of kitsch (he is a resolute Dolly Parton fan) shines. Sister Sophie (Leah Brotherhead) is caught between the dream of being a ju-jitsu instructor, a past which frustrates her future, and a faltering though earnest suitor, Pete(Andy Rush), an aspiring plumber whose middle name could be hesitant. As in most homes, the glue which holds everything together is mother Kath (Lisa Palfrey), a dinner lady/school crossing monitor with moxie who soldiers on through everything life throws at them with grace, humour, and courage.
The dialogue sparkles. The set is a living set, literally. Real food is prepared, goes into the rubbish bin. Muffiins burn. Pipes spring leaks. There are tears, laughs, words, unspoken truths. Fin bref, as the french say, family life, a pastiche of which almost everyone can recognise despite the family's unique situation.
This play amazes, and effortlessly glides from the singular to the universal. There are a couple of moments of emotional perfection which can only be truly appreciated in a small theatre like The Bush. You don't want it to end, and when it finally does, the only possible reaction was to leap to my feet to applaud.
I can't remember when was the last time I did that.
Go see it.
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