The Yard
Nick Cassenbaum’s smash-hit Edinburgh fringe show gets its London premiere. Exploding into The Yard is a blast of mimed gunshots, uproarious comedy, and biting satire about the Jewish diaspora.
The first show of a new year is an important step in any cultured adult’s life. Kicking off the year in the right sphere, the right energy, the right pace is tantamount. Cassenbaum’s mad cap tale was a gamble, mentioning kidnapping Jeremy Corbyn in its blurb. Yet in a regularly over-serious world satire is just the kick under the table we need.
We meet twins Dan (Dylan Corbett-Bader) and Lauren (Gemma Barnett) catapulted into an adventure of epic proportions after the Levoyah (Jewish funeral) of their grandfather. Together they inhabit a small village of larger-than-life characters, ranging from Mossad agents, assassin holocaust survivors, left-wing rabbis, and their gregarious uncle Malcolm Spivak. All fabricated by our dangerous duo Corbett-Bader and Barnett. I stopped counting characters at the 15 mark, an ambitious undertaking if there ever was one. Great sibling chemistry with splayed hands or hunched shoulders shifting characters what feels like every 5 minutes–understanding the instantaneous switching of mood, and intensity needed to pull all this off.
Emma Jude Harris’s direction embraces the chaos, utilising the tables and chairs to take us from their nan’s claustrophobic flat to a catnip warehouse in Dartford. However, the scattered props around the back of the stage remain untouched, missing a chance for some old-school (and popular) 39 Steps muti-rolling/prop work.
One might be put off by what seems to be a very clear political line. This could not be further from the truth and Cassenbaum, along with being a gifted comedic storyteller also treads the political red line highlighting the fractures within the Jewish community in the UK and abroad. Mass hysteria, historic disagreement, and antisemitism are explored with a glintingly troublesome eye and masterful use of Jewish slang (explained contextually for us Yoks/nonjews).
A screeching car chase of a story across London and Essex, bounding into a crescendo that stretches even the gifted prowess of our two hardworking actors. Not to add any spoilers but a Mexican standoff is a big ask and the exhaustion in their eyes is as clear as the beads of sweat across their faces.
But we Brits love to see actors really bleed for their supper and this twisting tale of faith, family, and farce never stops for breath. We stumble out, wide-eyed, a little shell-shocked but exhilarated by this pyroclastic flow of a show.
