Earlier this semester University of Southampton English students taking an introductory module on the history of theatre and film had an opportunity to review Howard Brenton’s hugely popular play, The Shadow Factory, at Nuffield Southampton Theatres. Euan Cook writes about how direction and incredible set pieces can completely transform a show.
Wartime Southampton, September 1940. Chaos simmers on the surface of the Solent following the annihilation of a vital Supermarine factory, sending ripples through the Hampshire community who are reeling from fatalities high in the dozens. Britain is backed into a corner by their opposition and are running out of solutions; they are losing the war in the skies and the public are quickly losing hope that they will live to see a brighter future, if any future at all. It is the Minister of Aircraft Production, Max Aitken, who forges the plan to covertly manufacture Spitfires in the smaller establishments of Southampton, in an attempt to unite the local community against a common enemy. But it seems Howard Brenton is also backed into a corner in trying to find substance for his spectacle, The Shadow Factory.
There is much to appreciate in Brenton’s portrayal of empowered women during the Second World War, notably the performances by Bethan Cullinane and Shala Nyx, the two female leads who dominate their space and command the audience’s imagination. As a result, their relationship with one another and the supporting cast is exceedingly convincing in the chaos caused by the so-called ‘government gone mad’. Everyone on stage vibrantly bounces off one another and does their best to inject life into an otherwise lifeless script. The chorus, arguably my favourite element of The Shadow Factory, is stellar in representing the struggles of the Hampshire community, and credit is due to Samuel Hodges 
and Candida Caldicot for saving Brenton’s script through thought-provoking numbers (aside from the insufferable ‘Airplane’ segment which seems to exist for the sake of jazz hands.) When the music swells in the play’s most crucial beats, there is breathing room to remind audiences of the immense paranoia in Britain from the threat of a foreign enemy. These moments cannot be appreciated enough, as they are the only moments when I sympathised for all of the characters, including government rats Max Aitken and Len Gooch.
Yet, amongst the character’s diversity (a patriotic Fred Dimmock, for example, struggling to keep his laundrette afloat, or his mother, also known as the Widow Twankey of 1940s Southampton rather than the ‘voice of reason’), it was a struggle to find an overreaching message of the whole play. The blatant message of resilience was my best assumption, but I do not think Brenton himself knew what he set out to create. The script suffers from what I believe to be an identity crisis; jumping between a drama, comedy, musical and documentary, or all of these genres at the same time. It’s as if Brenton was attempting to fit a corner piece into the centre of a jigsaw puzzle. There is either not enough substance in his script to provide a smooth plot, or the execution was not sufficient in providing an engaging drama. I do not intend to be merciless in critiquing a play immersed in historical accuracy and ultimately tragedy, but I do believe Brenton’s story is told on an unsuitable platform.
His best efforts of forging an entire script from a nugget of hope in the Second World War fell short. But it is the fantastic set design rewarding the performance with the most amount of merit, flaunting it up high in mid-flight. 59 Productions, the award-winning company providing the prosthetics for Michael Morpurgo’s War Horse, are ingenious when conjuring a set piece which compliments the class performances on stage. The simplistic set, comprised of a concrete slab accompanied with overhanging lighting rods (a substitute for structural set-pieces and mimicking the airflow over a Spitfire’s wings in spectacular fashion), are simple components which elevate Brenton’s inspirational story. Ironically, it is the simplicity of the set which compliments the frustrating simplicity of Brenton’s script and I cannot help but feel the performance is drowned in this extravaganza. Upon removing this element, you are left with a mundane story with several, cumbersome narrative arcs which do not serve any purpose; Max’s pursuit of an unyielding Polly, for example, which was just wrong and disturbing on many levels.
If this sounds like harsh criticism, it’s because I was frustrated throughout The Shadow Factory at its true potential. Whether it’s from watching the dress rehearsal beforehand (which was somehow more intriguing witnessing the mechanics of the play), or wanting more from the strong female leads, I was left parched in dire need of a more alluring drama. Indeed, I was thoroughly entertained throughout by powerful performances, dazzling set pieces, and a deft chorus, but Brenton’s script is in itself a shadow factory; a silhouette of the story he wished to tell.
The Shadow Factory runs until the 2nd of March at NST City. Book tickets here with student tickets starting at £10!
