In my review for the preceding 7pm show, Ernest Rutherford: Everyone Can Science, I discuss how the Basement’s no-risk initiative facilitates more experimental work by minimising the artists’ financial liability.  In the case of Sainsbury & Co, it’s pretty much business as usual, having championed the no-budget MO for well over half a decade now. 

Impressively versatile solo performer Lee Smith Gibbons bursts onto the conventionally minimal set as the first of several distinct characters: fresh-out-of-rehab Julia Christie, on the phone discussing catering for the impending special day with mother-of-the-groom Dee.  From there we are introduced in turn to the said groom-to-be Seth, his best man, the bride, her father and sister, as well as a handful of characters present but not performed. 

The one-person ensemble has a cosmopolitan element: Bronwyn and Veronica’s mother is South African whilst her father’s from London’s East End by the sound of it; meanwhile squawking macho best man Matty is unmistakably Australian.  This may in part be to help identify the various characters, but it certainly fits with our multicultural heritage.

Julia-Christie and Seth share quite similar vernaculars and mannerisms, the main differences being that Julia is considerably more blokish, and as gregarious and confident as Seth is anxious and insecure.  In contrast, impending bride Bronwyn is almost too perfect, as indeed some people seem to be.  Her unequivocal commitment to Seth, as unlikely as it may seem, offers a sense of possibility for the pathologically awkward nerds among us.

Any profundity or apparent purpose for telling this particular story is down to the observer to extrapolate.  There is no ostensible message or patronising moral, we are simply flies on the wall witnessing the unfolding of an auspicious day in the lives of these multiple protagonists.

All the characters, with the exception of the spiteful Veronica, are amiable and sympathetic.  A personal favourite is the girl’s decrepit Grandmother, an extraordinarily well-drawn persona given we don’t actually see her personified; we just relate to her through her relationship with Veronica, lending a necessary redeeming aspect to the self-centred jealous sister.

The remarkable quality of Sainsbury’s writing, well represented by Smith-Gibbons under the sure directing hand of Jessica Joy-Wood, is the way his characters have recognisable traits that border on cliché, yet are altogether totally believable and often surprising.  I’ve seen enough of his plays to know you can never be certain which direction the action might take, or what choices people might make. 

As is the norm with the off-the-cuff never-look-back stylings of Sainsbury’s script work, there’s plenty of room for development and refinement within the structure of this briskly staged theatrical anecdote.  The potential concern with the idea of doing so is how much of the appealing trademark freshness and pseudo-transience could potentially be compromised by fleshing out and/or tightening up the work as it stands.

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