Abigail’s Party – Footnotes
The Footnotes that accompany our episode on Mike Leigh’s period classic, Abigail’s Party, include observations on Beverly’s true self, the significance of music in the play, wine as a symbol of class, and the forewarnings of Laurence’s heart attack.
Not listened to the episode yet? You’ll find it here.
Your true self
In an introduction that Mike Leigh wrote for the 40th anniversary of the play, he said that all of his plays and films “dealt with the tension between conforming or being your true self.” Undoubtedly Beverly has adopted a whole set of ideas that she believes that she should live by in her aspiration to belong to the successful middle-class. These include the style of her home, her own appearance, the job that her husband does and the income it brings. Her performance as the hostess of the evening is carefully contrived, no doubt including details that she has gleaned from Cosmopolitan magazine. Leigh described Beverly as “an aspirational working class girl who is totally preoccupied with appearances and received notions of behaviour and taste.” But who is the true Beverly?
There are a number of clues in the play that suggest that her self-conscious behaviour disguises underlying insecurity and unhappiness. Some of this may start from her childhood home, where she reveals that her “parents have not spoken to each other for twenty years, and as long as I can remember, my father has slept in the boxroom on his own.” She goes on to refer to her mother being “really ill with her nerves”, a distress that she herself has admitted to as the cause of her multiply failing to pass her driving test. In a surprisingly stark outburst, she says she hates her father. “We all hate him.” It’s a brief eruption of deep-seated anger.
Nadia and I talked in the podcast about how for all her material comfort, Beverly is frustrated in her day-to-day life with Laurence. She says repeatedly that she is bored. We know from her conversation with Angela about lipstick that she used to advise customers on their makeup, but this is in the past and no mention is made of her working now. So we can imagine that she is stuck at home while Laurence works long days. She also says in passing that she was “lonely” when she moved into their house.
No wonder that she wants to have a drink, a dance, and a flirt, or more. She is stifled in her apparently ideal suburban life, and as Nadia suggests, she wants to break free.
There is another detail that might tell us something about who the real Beverly is. When Angela asks her whether she would like to have children, she replies that she doesn’t like the idea of going through childbirth, and she imagines that looking after a baby would be a messy business. It would certainly be difficult to maintain her pristine home and appearance. Perhaps the trauma of her family has also put her off the idea of having her own children. We can of course take Beverly’s reply at face value. However one might also wonder if this is her true self speaking. It could be that if the subject has ever been broached in the three years of their marriage, she and Laurance don’t agree about it. She drops not too subtle hints that they may not be having sex as frequently as she would want, or as required. According to the critic Michael Coveney, “the whole point about Beverley is that she is childless, and there is a sense in which that grotesque exterior carapace is a mask of inner desolation.”
Despair at her childlessness may be an assumption too far, but there is no doubt that much of Beverly’s true self is subsumed under the armour of social appearance, struggling to get out.
Tamsin Outhwaite as Beverly
Theatre Royal Stratford East, September 2024
📷 by Mark Senior
The music in the play
Music plays an important part in the play. It is a battleground between Beverly and Laurence on the evening; their quarrelling over it degenerating even into a physical scrap over the record player at one point, much to the embarrassment of their guests. We sense that their tetchy disagreement about the choice of music is only a symptom of deeper mutual frustration and division.
Their different tastes in music also say something about their respective characters. Beverly’s selections include disco, romantic easy listening or dance music. For her music is an emotional, sensual release. The specific tracks she chooses, Elvis Presley’s ‘Don’t’ and Jose Feliciano’s ‘Light my Fire’, for example, are statements of sexual desire. A desire which is pointedly not being satisfied by her husband.
Laurence’s music suggestions, of James Galway or Beethoven, may say more about his social pretensions than his personal response. He is at pains to display certain cultural credentials, particularly to Susan who he believes is of a class who will recognise them as such. It is darkly comic that Laurence’s heart attack occurs to the dramatic accompaniment of Beethoven’s Fifth symphony.
The music underscores the excruciating scenes when Beverly has everyone up dancing. She chooses some “smoochy” music, as Leigh’s stage direction has it, so that she can ‘smooch’ with Tony. Angela bops inappropriately with Laurence to the same track, and he then reluctantly dances with Susan in a stilted, formal embrace.
As a footnote the specific choices of music that Leigh used in the first stage production of the play had to be changed for the BBC TV film because of copyright, Elvis being replaced by Tom Jones and Jose Feliciano by Demis Roussos. Beverly’s original references to Elvis also had to be rewritten because he actually died during the first run of the play at the Hampstead theatre in 1977.
Wine as a symbol of class
The bottle of wine that Susan brings to give to Beverly becomes a small but telling symbol of class in a play that is very much about class. The first tell is the fact that Susan has not eaten any dinner before she arrives. She is clearly expecting that she has been invited to dinner; hence her bringing the wine. The others have already had what the English would call their “tea”. Beverly is confused by Susan’s gift – she is obviously not accustomed to going to, or hosting, dinner parties. She doesn’t cook after all.
Susan confirms her middle-class credentials by asking for sherry when offered a drink, before Beverly forces a gin and tonic on her.
Beverly’s unfamiliarity with wine is underlined by her going to put Susan’s Beaujolais in the fridge, not knowing that one doesn’t conventionally cool red wine, notwithstanding that real connoisseurs might argue that Beaujolais could be chilled. The point is that it’s not “the done thing”, to borrow Leigh’s seminal phrase.
Forewarnings
Although Laurence’s heart attack comes as a dramatic shock, there are hints given earlier in the play. When Beverly notices Laurence looking for something in his pockets, she asks him if he has “heartburn”. His popping antacid tablets is clearly common behaviour. Beverly attributes his heartburn to stress from work, which prompts Angela to tell them about the businessmen she has seen in intensive care who have suffered cardiac arrest. As Laurence lights up his cigar, Angela underscores the forewarning by observing that “smoking’s one of the chief causes of heart disease.” Laurence blithely rebuts that he doesn’t “believe that smoking, in moderation, can do any harm at all”, which even in 1977 would not have sounded anything other than delusional.
In the event, the final prophetic warning comes from Beverly herself, when she shouts “Drop dead!!” at Laurence as she exits to get her erotic painting from the bedroom. That these prove to be her last words to him is a cruel, and comic, irony.
The Texts
112 – Glengarry Glen Ross by David Mamet
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David Mamet’s modern American classic, Glengarry Glen Ross, is a blistering commentary on the cut-throat reality of the American dream, and its poisonous impact on those who have bought into the myth and machismo of that dream. The play had its world premiere in the small Cottesloe theatre at the National Theatre in London in September 1983, and was first performed in New York the following year, winning the Pulitzer Prize for Drama. Mamet also wrote the extended screenplay for the star-studded 1992 film version.
As we recorded this episode a new production of the play was playing at the Old Vic theatre in London, with an all-female cast. This is a particularly provocative idea, because one of the primary themes of this play is masculine identity, and the salesmen in this Chicago office do not hold back in their display of machismo.
To explore Mamet’s unflinching slice of 1980s dog-eat-dog capitalism, I am joined by arts journalist Mark Lawson.
111 – The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui by Bertolt Brecht
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Bertolt Brecht’s ‘gangster spectacle’, The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui, is both an exuberant and funny piece of theatre, and a chillingly topical political satire. Set in the 1930s Chicago of Al Capone, Brecht presents a parody of the rise of Hitler through the character of the gangster Arturo Ui. The play is a universal cry for vigilance against the rise of unscrupulous, populist leaders who threaten democratic societies and global peace.
As we recorded this episode a new production of the play by the Royal Shakespeare Company was playing in Stratford-upon-Avon, starring Mark Gatiss as the title character.
I am delighted to be joined by both the show’s translator, playwright Stephen Sharkey, and by Brecht scholar, Professor Tom Kuhn, to guide us through Brecht’s political parody.
110 – Our Town by Thornton Wilder
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Playwright Edward Albee described Thornton Wilder’s Our Town as “the greatest American play ever written.” In fact Wilder’s quintessential portrait of rural America in a bygone time has somehow transcended its iconic American setting to become a universal meditation on mortality, community, and how we live our individual lives, wherever that may be.
The play premiered on Broadway in 1938, winning Wilder the Pulitzer Prize, and it has been a staple of school, amateur and stock performance ever since. In fact, according to critic John Lahr writing in the introduction to the text of the Penguin edition, “the play is performed somewhere in the world every day.”
Howard Sherman, author of Another Day’s Begun – Thornton Wilder’s Our Town in the 21st Century, joins me to explore this American classic.
Michael Sheen as the Stage Manager in Our Town, Welsh National Theatre, photo by Helen Murray.








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