The key moment in Tim Firth’s nourishing new musical would be easy to miss. It comes after a very funny Michele Dotrice has been on a rant about playground games. As Ivy, an endlessly raging former trades union rep, she considers enjoyment to be politically suspect. “Nothing makes me more angry than people trying to make me happy,” she fumes.
But no sooner has she let off steam than a hand reaches out to her. It belongs to one of the primary school children who are never far away in Joyce Branagh’s production. It is the smallest of gestures, as simple as it is innocent, but one that straddles the generations. Momentarily silencing Ivy, the handclasp connects the playfulness of youth with the glorious eccentricity of old age.
Now Is Good is two things. First, it is a DIY monument to Firth’s late father, Gordon, who, by the playwright’s account, was a compulsive collector and repurposer of rubbish. Fictionalised as Ray and played winningly by Jeff Rawle, he becomes a retired builder who is supposedly renovating a former bank, realised on a deep and dusty set by designer Sara Perks.
He is, however, easily distracted. Befriending passersby, he turns a building site into a home for singalongs, dressing-up games and medieval jousting. The mood is whimsical and cheerfully anarchic.
From this affectionate portrait emerges the show’s second element. It is unusual both in its casting of older actors – Elizabeth Counsell zipping around in a mobility scooter, Maxwell Hutcheon looking stiffly on – but also in its inclusion of children. Beyond the fogeyish jokes about the internet, Firth offers a vision of a balanced and inclusive society. Only by embracing our community, he seems to say, can we cope with change and loss.
Chris Hannon as Ray’s son Neil is a health and safety officer in need of a physical and emotional safety net. In the midst of turmoil, he leans into his community for solace. “Now is good,” he decides.
From breezy beginnings, it builds to a tremendously moving second half, not least because of Firth’s songs that emerge conversationally before heading off down shuffling jazz avenues and clever melodic loops. They are arranged with colour and invention by musical director George Francis and sung with relish by an excellent cast.
At Storyhouse, Chester, until 28 May
