It seems fitting that Penelope Skinner’s The Village Bike, originally staged at the Royal Court, should receive its regional premiere in Sheffield. Skinner already has a Crucible connection – her recent play, The Sound Of Heavy Rain, was part of last years Paines Plough Roundabout season – and Sheffield isn’t a million miles away from Derbyshire and the kind of sleepy dormitory towns like the one in which the play is set, giving it an extra sense of relevance.
Becky and John are a young couple who have recently moved to the countryside. She’s newly pregnant, and finds herself craving sex ever more intensely. The only problem is that John isn’t quite so interested, and is more likely to be found campaigning against the new branch of Tesco’s or buried in a child-rearing manual. As a result Becky starts delving in his old porn stash and fantasising about the local blokes, including a widowed plumber and a married lothario actor; soon, as her desires continue to go unsatisfied, these fantasies start to become reality.
Skinner’s play is a tightly written delight, one that neatly reverses stereotypical gender roles. Here, it’s Becky who furtively masturbates while watching porn on her laptop as John lies sleepily with the new mobile he’s just built for their baby. This isn’t just a play about sex though; there’s a lot more going on in regards to Becky’s identity, her sense of self and visibility, and her desperation not to be seen purely as a mother figure.
The play is also incredibly funny and the first half is packed with double entendres – there’s a lot of business about ‘sweaty pipes’; even the title is loaded. But, despite this, the play is always more than just a bedroom farce, the writing taking a much darker turn as the consequences of Becky’s actions become clear.
As Becky, Amy Cudden is never off the stage; she’s in every scene and has to carry the production pretty much on her own. She’s superb in the role, a real star in the making, conveying both Becky’s sexual frustration and her growing sense of panic. Strong as she is in the role, she never overshadows the supporting cast: Christopher Harker is excellent as the somewhat drippy husband, John (if there’s a criticism to be made of Skinner’s play, it’s that she could have made John a bit more dynamic), while David Bark-Jones is both charismatic and ever so slightly sociopathic as Becky’s lover Oliver. He really comes into his own during the second half when the couple’s sex games take a disturbing twist. Sean McKenzie and Alice Selwyn also stand out in their two brief but pivotal roles.
Director Jonathan Humphreys has transformed the Crucible’s Studio into a traverse space, which proves an inspired move: making voyeurs of the audience and creating a disorientating sense of intimacy. Excellent use is also made of a balcony above the stage, allowing for a dramatic downpour of rain.
The final scene may well divide audiences, and while it certainly leaves audiences open to making their own interpretation of what they’ve just seen, it also gives the ending an unsettling edge, one that you find yourself playing over and over again in your mind afterwards.
