Theatre review: Drip

Tom Wells' Folk centred on a folk-singing, spoon-playing nun, while his Broken Biscuits WHICH NEVER CAME ANYWHERE NEAR LONDON SO I DIDN'T GET TO SEE IT, AS IF THAT'S AN ACCEPTABLE STATE OF AFFAIRS was about teenagers putting a band together. So you could say music's been becoming more and more central to the playwright's work, or you could say he's been inching ever closer to writing a musical. Well Drip is classified as a one-man musical comedy, although "play with songs" is probably a closer description - maybe don't chuck a full tap-dancing chorus at Wells just yet, he's building up to it slowly. This is about teenager Liam (Andrew Finnigan,) and while it's set in Wells' beloved Hull Liam isn't quite as at home there yet - he moved there a year ago when his mother remarried, and he's not yet made a lot of friends there.

The exception is Caz, who as the only other openly queer kid in their class has become his best friend, a friendly face in a new city while Liam in turn offers her a place to hang out and a distraction from problems at home.

As they go into their final year at high school, it's the last chance for Caz to enter the Project Prize, a school competition based around community work, which despite her enthusiasm she always loses thanks to a hilariously overachieving rival. This year she wants to start their local swimming pool's first-ever synchronised swimming team, and Liam agrees to join out of a sense of loyalty despite not being able to swim. The monologue takes the form of his presentation to assembly, a necessary part of his and Caz's application for the prize; but it soon becomes apparent this is less about their chances of winning, and more about Liam trying to get his friend back after his nerves derailed the performance.

And Drip sticks very closely to this conceit of a presentation to assembly, Matthew Robins' songs kept very simple like something a 15-year-old still teaching himself the guitar might write (they also have to be simple, because if you're going to ask the audience to sing along to a chorus whose lyrics change every time the tune at least should be easy to remember.) On the downside, the fact that we only get to see the presentation itself means that what happens between Liam and Caz, and his potential romance with a trainee lifeguard, is left open - although, as much of the story is about Liam trying to be more optimistic, it's probably safe to assume things don't turn out too badly for him.

It's not the deepest* or edgiest thing Wells has ever written (it's very much a piece aimed first and foremost at young people) but it does have his trademark eccentric comedy and charm with the occasional spiky touch, and the convincingly young-looking Finnigan is endearing as the rather hangdog teenager who's trying to embrace a more positive outlook on life. Jane Fallowfield's production has a tendency to lose energy, particularly in the first half-hour, but there's always another great gag on the way to get everyone's attention back; and as Liam increasingly integrates props and (gentle) audience participation into his presentation the show gains an added level of quirkiness that means you can't help but love it by the end. And the punchline to "Four Things Part ii," about Caz's doomed attempts to beat her school rival, is worth the admission on its own.

Drip by Tom Wells and Matthew Robins is booking until the 22nd of December at the Bush Theatre's Studio.

Running time: 1 hour straight through.

Photo credit: Sam Taylor.

*and I'm getting right in here before anyone says anything about the pool itself being quite deep