Mary Barton

On Monday night, Chris and I dashed to the Royal Exchange to see Mary Barton, a play recently adapted from the novel by Elizabeth Gaskell. It was a real treat. The acting, particularly, was of a really high standard. We both found every performance convincing and if the accent police have a comment to make it will have to wait until Jonny and Mandy have seen it too next weekend.
After the disappointment of our trip to the Lowry (although the seats are much more comfortable) it was great to talk enthusiastically during the interval and in the second half we were nudging each other, whispering about what we thought was going to happen next.
Mary Barton is the daughter of a pro-union mill worker who dreams of escaping the harsh realities of her Manchester life and is therefore an easy victim for Henry, the philandering son of the mill owner. In time, she recognises the true worth of her childhood sweetheart and turns away from the rich flatterer only to be genuinely shocked when he makes a desperate offer of marriage - something which she had naively expected anyway. However, her troubles are about to multiply as her depressed and drug using father shoots Henry dead and her sweetheart is arrested for his murder. In the nick of time, she is able (in a bit of a silly bit where she used a coffin as a boat) to get to Liverpool and recall his cousin from his ship to provide him an alibi. Finally, the father returns, confesses to the grieving mill owner and is allowed to die in the arms of his daughter. The young lovers marry and set out for a new life in Canada.

Now that I write down the plot, it sounds a bit melodramatic and possibly a bit rubbish - but it was great, we both loved it, and we are happy theatre goers once more.