Waiting for Lefty begins in medias res. Even as we wait in the rain, we are privy to the arguments of a group of cabbies contemplating a strike. As they return from a break in negotiations, we follow them into their union meeting to find ourselves sitting amongst them as discussions continue. This inventive and highly effective device plunges us directly into their world although which world we are never sure, since Clifford Odetss 1935 play has been transplanted from New York City to an unspecified time in an unspecified place in England. While such a shift may rob the play of the raw social passion with which Odetss original was imbued, the opening ensemble piece is convincing in its energy, and gives a strong and atmospheric opening. The body of the play consists of a series of two-handed vignettes, suffused with economic hardship and the spectre of impending war. These scenes demand a greater colour palette of the actors, and they strive valiantly within the confines of a limited script. Shorn of their context, the rhythms of depression-era New York do not sit easily on these young actors lips, and their discomfort reveals itself in an awkwardness that prevents the easy naturalism that these scenes demand. Instead, the middle section of the play sits somewhat uncomfortably, too black and white to be truly engaging and yet too grimly domestic to arouse base passions. Across this monochrome of domesticity, though, appears a vibrant splash of vivid colour. The final two-hander, between young lovers Sid and Flossie, hits every one of the notes that previous scenes failed to reach. Michael Tucker and Lucy Walker-Evans are superb, as the bombardment of the earlier part of the play gives way to the calmer, more reflective dialogue of lovers caught between quixotic fancy and crushing pragmatism. Tucker, as Sid, gives a captivating performance, inhabiting every moment with tortured emotion written gently in the contortions of his body and the straining of his sinews, all the while reined in against the formality of the age. Any period piece removed from its age may struggle to resonate. While the instinct to avoid the student drama clichés of 1930s New York and tortuous Brooklyn accents should be applauded, Waiting for Lefty is so much of its time and place that, without a defined setting, it appears rootless. The slightly drawn characters are angry without anything to be angry at, and a strong ensemble cast, whilst illuminated by moments of great invention and great tenderness, are ultimately left swinging at shadows.
