Becky is heading away to Ibiza for her hen do, accompanied by her mum, sister, and some friends. On a boozy weekend that is meant to be about letting their hair down ahead of Becky’s matrimony, the two sisters are jolted into learning more about their Mum’s past and belatedly realise that she too deserves recognition and happiness. I was in the minority at Monday night’s audience at
The Hen Do having never been invited to nor attended a hen party never mind a whole weekend away. But clearly many others could identify with the shenanigans.
Four neon-coloured palm trees and a couple of sun loungers dominate the stage in this stripped-down production. Writer Diona Doherty leads the madcap trip starring as bride Becky. Jo Donnelly plays the mother Sally who works in a supermarket and had her wings clipped from an early age. Niamh McAllister is the more idealistic, younger sister Ciara who is super-organised and yearns to escape her backroom job working in the same shop as her Mum. Keith Singleton’s all-in commitment pays off with his outlandish set of characters including an air steward, a police jailor, the DJ who makes Sally’s heart fizz, and a stripper who’s not afraid to show off his budgie smugglers … though at one point Singleton’s west Belfast accent hinted that Jamie Dornan might have been his vocal coach!
Like working your way through a packet of Wotsits, there’s always another cheesy treat around the corner in
The Hen Do, with dance songs, hotel theme tunes replete with actions, and DJ Fizzy’s late night grooves filling the Ibiza dance floor and even getting some of the theatre audience up on their feet. Phone calls home by Becky and Ciara to fiancé Ronnie and girlfriend Natasha fill in some detail of the relationships and provide moments of calm before the next storm. We laugh about body parts, waxing, swearing, and the contradictory baggage that the Northern Irish bring with them on holiday.
At times, the choreography is confusing. The opening scene is set on a plane but uses a lot of lateral movement instead of sticking to more rigid movements walking up and down the aisle. An early quip makes fun of the speed of Michelle O’Neill’s vocal delivery, yet Doherty has Becky talking nineteen to the dozen, sometimes to the point that her lines become indistinct.
Director Seón Simpson crafts a few tender moments that break up the racing around the stage and the screeching. Singleton and Donnelly are electric together as DJ Fizzy and Sally, whether dancing to Aha’s
Take On Me, or their extended mimed encounter after the interval. While the first act almost works itself up into a celebration of normal working-class life, a whiplash-inducing emotional curveball near the end of the show stops everyone in their tracks when real life interrupts the weekend away and the focus is pulled onto valuing motherhood and a parent’s needs. (An audience member heckling a message of support suggested that the new storyline resonated.)
Ultimately, The Hen Do entertains without having to be profound. There are decent jokes and some good comedy acting. But the celebration of motherhood is quite flimsy and the fêting of working-class life – which would normally be crass and reductionist for me to mention except, in this case, it’s written into the characters’ dialogue and the show’s themes – lacks a lot of depth and complexity.
The Hen Do has checked in at the Grand Opera House in Belfast until Saturday 7 October, before heading off to Ballymena (Tuesday 10), Omagh (Wednesday 11), Coleraine (Thursday 12 and Friday 13) and Enniskillen (Saturday 14).
Photo credit: Melissa Gordon
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