Despite only being an infant when Margaret Thatcher left office, so not old enough to actually remember the era of Billy-the-Cactus and Lorraine Fontaine for myself, I was still vividly transported into their world of larger than life characters by the brilliant storytelling of Colin Brown.
A celebration of the hopes, dreams and tribulations of ordinary people
A one man show, Billy-the-Cactus and Lorraine Fontaine tells the love story of Billy, a wannabe poet dealing with the recent loss of his father (a man locally renowned for his fighting fists) and his ambitious and pragmatic stripper girlfriend Lorraine. These star-crossed lovers are certainly proof that opposites attract – Billy having a flat full of books and Lorraine not being much of a reader is just one example – but Brown weaves believable chemistry between them, even as he has to play all the parts himself.
Brown is a highly engaging storyteller, using simple gestures and slight vocal changes to embody characters as varied as Billy’s mum to local thug Big Gozza. He’s also a keen observer of people: it’s the small recognisable details that really brings this world alive, such as Billy’s mum bringing out two packs of biscuits (bourbons AND custard creams) to impress her boyfriend’s new lady friend.
Billy-the-Cactus and Lorraine Fontaine is a celebration of the hopes, dreams and tribulations of ordinary people. There’s no genie to grant their wishes – the closest they have to a miracle is Billy’s mum’s lucky touch at the bookies. Billy is grateful for his council flat, even though it should probably be condemned, and Lorraine makes the most of her assets to set herself up as a businesswoman. Despite this kitchen sink style setting, the story crescendos into a cinematic style dramatic ending that wouldn’t feel out of place in a movie like Sexy Beast.
There’s perhaps a missed opportunity for more social commentary. Thatcher is mentioned in passing, most prominently as a cobbled together collage with her head on Madonna’s body and Arthur Scargill nestled between her legs. Although this is a funny visual, the legacy of the Thatcher decade on northern towns is only implied in dead ends the characters find themselves in, the men only taking pride in street scraps and escape in the nearest boozer. Brown ditches these potential polemical avenues in favour of keeping focus on the plot.
Brown's deft versatility ensures that, by the end of the hour, you’ll be fond of and invested in dreamer Billy, glamorous stripper Lorraine, and the whole vibrant supporting cast of rough-and-ready locals.
