As I sat on the tube the other day, I smiled at the cute little old man sitting across from me. Cute, that was until he spoke. Never before have I heard such filth fire out of one person’s wrinkled little mouth. Either he’d taken one two many illegal drugs during the 80s – or he’d just been to see ‘Market Boy’ at the National Theatre. To be honest, there’s not much difference between the two.
Every now and then a trip to the theatre leaves you stunned. Market Boy, at the National Theatre left me positively dazed. Whether it was the vibrant, neon club scenes, flashing lights or the sight of Margaret Thatcher (Nicola Blackwell) flying above my head that did it, I still can’t be sure. By any means, I couldn’t have a better insight into Romford market life of the 80’s if I’d been there myself. I now wish I had.
The story follows Boy (Danny Worters) as he takes on a role selling shoes in the local market – and all that comes with it.
“There’s an art to selling stilettos and you’d better grasp it. Learn a good wind-up, learn the pull of cash, learn drugs, learn sex, and run wild with the market monkeys.”
Boy struggles with the thought of losing his cherry, a mum (Claire Rushbrook) who re-loses her innocence in the back of a van and an overwhelming amount of 80s kitsch. The Margaret Thatcher led political statements don’t seem to have much point but are funny all the same. A womanising trader (Gary McDonald), testosterone fuelled co-workers and ladies in need of a good… pair of heels all make for an amusing market microcosm. Throw in a besotted young girl (Jade Williams), a peroxide blonde (Jemma Walker), a bearded woman (Sophie Stanton), a hammer-wielding inspector (Paul Moriarty) and enough drugs to fuel Woodstock and you’ve got a recipe for chaos. Strangely enough, most of the time it works.
The last time I was shocked into post National Theatre excitement mode was after a performance of Coram Boy; an altogether different play but equally as mind blowing. Coram Boy had deceit, love and murder whilst Market Boy features sex, 80’s anthems and drugs. It was a gasp-worthy for the older and more fragile audience members, hilarious for the rest of us. The Olivier stage is a fantastic space that allows actors to grow, leap and project before the crowd. A good thing too, as the revolving floor played host to two cars and a collection of moving market stalls. Full marks to choreographers Scott Graham and Steven Hoggett.
As a market (and shoe) lover, I found the insight into market life in the 80s enthralling. So too, evidently did the little old lady behind us. Her gasps and exclamations rang out through the theatre at regular intervals. Disgust? No, I don’t think so. She stayed on for the second half – perhaps re-living her own past tales of debauchery and lost innocence.
The verdicts have been mixed; top range reports through to the ‘I’ll never get my evening back’. I challenge you however, to walk out without an extreme reaction of some sort. There may be a lot of swearing and sexual innuendos, but that’s apparently the way it was for Essex stallholders of the 80’s. Their cast’s energy never flagged and although the storyline moved unnecessarily slowly at times, the market monkeys swung about on the scaffolding like the real thing.
If nothing else, a sea of neon tracksuits beneath pumping 80’s tunes is a ‘trip’ worth taking. Plus, it’ll only cost you a tenner. Oh, and watch out for the lobster – you have been warned.
