‘SQWARK…SQWARK…SQWARK.’ A Family Man student dressed as a giant bird, complete with golden beak and luxuriant paper wings, makes a noisy circuit of the stage – flapping wildly – to the delight of children and parents alike. This exuberant character is Martin. A few weeks ago he would not even speak in front of the class, but during today’s presentation he stood up, alone, in front of a visiting hall full of people and read out an intimate poem to his girlfriend. Prior to the performance he was jittery with nervous negativity; speaking to him afterwards this had been replaced by a cautious pride.
John, who 10 years ago was one of Belmarsh’s most infamous inmates, humbly reads a poem he has written. He struggles on despite the difficulties he clearly has with reading, even ensuring to lift his head to brave eye-contact with the audience at regular intervals. I am sitting next to his young daughter Sophie, who grins toothsomely with pride at seeing her father onstage.
And these are just two examples; each student has had their own demons to fight in order to make this performance possible. For some it is public speaking, remembering lines or overcoming literacy issues; for some is bending their individual ego to the will of the group; for some it is having the bravery to act seriously when they are used to playing the joker; for some it is simply standing up on stage at all. It is with a sense of pride that I watch them pull out all the stops and deliver a confident, moving, humorous and triumphant performance.
Best of all, the audience is completely involved, enthused and entertained. There are tensions which underlie the relationships of many of the families present, but these are playfully acknowledged and, for this day at least, put to rest. The ‘gameshow’ segment, Pie in the Eye, light-heartedly recognises the residual anger felt by many partners and children and gives them a chance to purge this by – as the gameshow name suggests –rubbing cream pie into the prisoner’s face. Asked whether she enjoyed pie-ing her father John, Sophie grins and replies: ‘yes, because it got him back for being bad’.
Simarly, when the actor playing the female visitor in a ‘bad visit’ scene succumbs to the [so often irresistible] urge to go completely overboard with effeminate flouncing, it is done with such earnest good humour and inclusivity that while it has both the audience and the men in stitches, it somehow maintains the integrity of the content. As one esteemed guest in the audience put it: ‘it was brilliant, it was brave … it was sexist … but we loved it’.
The part it is most gratifying to see the students play however, is that of a real-life ‘family man’. Terry, the towering ‘Selfish Giant’ of the play, is completely absorbed playing balloons with his son, who is a boisterous carbon-copy of his father. Terry’s influence is evident in every aspect of his son’s appearance and behaviour, a reminder of why Terry’s commitment to being a good role-model is so important.
Having watched these men develop over the past weeks, I felt I had become very involved in their lives. Walking amongst them, giving my congratulations and saying my goodbyes, they are polite and genuine towards me, but their thoughts are elsewhere. There is something completely humbling about their detachment. Although it is sad to think that I will probably never see these men again, and that I will not be missed, this is as it should be. Their indifference is a wonderful, because it indicates that they are completely focused on their families.