James Ley’s Wilf, is a tremendously promising, and provocative look at one man’s self-destructive path to self-care.
📍 Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh
📅 8 – 24 December
🕖 Tuesday – 8:00pm; 2:00pm on selected dates
🕖 Running time: 85 minutes (no interval)
👥 Director: Gareth Nicholls
👥 Writer: James Ley
👥 Set and Costume Designer: Becky Minto
💰 From £18
🎂 16+
🎭 Captioned performance: Thu 16th December
🎭 Signed performance: Tue 21st December
Calvin (Michael Dylan) has been taking driving lessons for a very long time indeed. Despite this, his instructor, former psychotherapist Thelma (Irene Allan), has absolutely zero confidence in his ability to pass his test. Indeed, Calvin has become more patient than student, whether she likes it or not. Suffice to say he has many issues to work through, from lack of motherly love, to an abusive, if short, boyfriend. The result? Well, our Calvin is something of an insatiable man-killer, unable, and unwilling to form deeper emotional connections. Desperately unhappy, and instinctively aware of a need for change, he pins all of his hopes of passing his test, driving away, and leaving his past behind him.
By some dark miracle, this duly occurs, and Calvin and the audience strap in for a truly singular road trip courtesy of his new car named Wilf.
A Wild Ride
Of the plot, that’s all I’m saying, you’ll just have to buy a seat to find out just how bizarre his adventures will be, and the depths, and heights to which Calvin and Wilf will aspire. It’s understatement to say that it’s a wild ride.
Ley, well known for his triumphant Love Song for Lavender Menace, exhibits a consistent talent for sparkling dialogue, and effortless exposition. Wilf is at its best when his well-rounded characters are sparking off each other, or delving into some soul searching, and strangely thrilling monologue.
The final member of the cast, Neil John Gibson, takes on the role of Frank, a possible love interest for Calvin, even if our hero isn’t immediately sold on the idea. Gibson is the Swiss Army Knife of the show, merrily jumping into any costume required, however tight, or ludicrous. Indeed, none of the cast are anything less than utterly invested in their roles, and for all 85 minutes of the show, not one iota of the scenery goes unchewed. Michael Dylan’s central character is charmingly dysfunctional, his set-piece delivery a minor tour-de-force of physical comedy. Allan’s disgraced therapist turned driving instructor is also a fully realised character, rich in idiosyncrasy, inner conflict, and acerbic one-liners.
The play has that invaluable quality I often speak of, but rarely find: likeability. Ley knows how to flesh out a character without laying it on too thick, and our three central agents are each worthy of the audience’s care, and personal investment.
Not quite the finished article
That said, Wilf does feel like a work-in-progress rather than a finished article. Whilst Calvin’s road to despair is sympathetically and carefully defined, his self-redemption comes away feeling unearned, and a little easy by comparison. Anyone who’s known a life-bending mental health issue knows that turning the corner isn’t an overnight phenomenon, and that even the most nuclear of disasters in isolation more often breed further collapse, than a change of heart and mind. Whilst I appreciate that Calvin has been benefitting from hundreds of hours of informal therapy before our actors take the stage, it still feels unbalanced.
The ending is certainly satisfactory, and I salute James for having the courage to definitively conclude his story. Too many challenging pieces of theatre simply stop happening, rather than end, a phenomenon I think we could do with less of.
Even so, mental health and self-love are not tidy creatures, and though I entirely approve of a hopeful ending (indeed my own struggles with mental health challenges have trended that way for over 20 years for which I’m very grateful), a little more ambiguity might tip the narrative balance back towards equilibrium.
A rough diamond is still a diamond
Director Gareth Nicholls has done a fine job of fully realising the play since its earlier incarnation as a read-through during the Fringe. Perhaps his finest achievement is in helping Michael Dylan to harness his abundant love for his character. What could have strayed into clownish excess is, instead, moulded into a completely believable, and loveable disaster of a human being i.e., a real human being.
Wilf is an audience pleaser I have no hesitation in recommending for your viewing pleasure. It’s not perfect, but in its imperfection lies a heart-felt, and endearing play which directs the gaze of all of us lying here in the gutter, towards the stars.
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