"Oh what a lovely night out"

No plot. No star parts.

St Nicolas Players' production of "Oh What A Lovely War" at the South Holland Centre, Spalding, on October 16, 17 and 18 started with what seemed to be two major disadvantages.

But none of it. The 13 actors and actresses pulled together as a company and between them handles over 120 roles. Some of these were, inevitably, performed better than others. But one of the greatest pleasures of the evening was the sense the sense of company which the players achieved. Their rapport with the audience was so strong on opening night that there was tangible shared delight.

Rapport was established from the very beginning by Cathy Mellor as MC and stand-up comedienne, a role she resumed with great success in the second half when she led the audience in a tongue-twisting sing-along.

The acting of the six women members of the company: Cathy, Gill Adlard, Arline Evenden, Helena Ground, Sally Harrison, Daisy Ivatt and Bev Moore, was impressively strong. This came across especially in the scenes set in the trenches when they took parts normally given to men. A vignette of life on the home front, with Cathy, Daisy and Helena as Lancashire mill girls, also worked particularly well.

Peter Ayre as a maniacal drill sergeant had to endure frequent upstaging by a ragbag array of recruits, including a brainless geriatric, John Hobson, a naughty boy, Daniel Clarke and a louche effeminate, Charles Harrison, who stole stole the scene with some skilful underacting. His soliloquy as a French soldier detailing the horrors of the battlefields was one of the most affecting parts of the production.

"Oh What a Lovely War" evolved from a a collection of soldiers songs from the First World War as well as other sources such as photographs, speeches, church sermons and newspaper headlines.

Photographs and headlines were projected on to a screen above the actors. However their effect was severely diminished because the screen was simply not big enough. Much more effective were the songs accompanied by a small but very enthusiastic band. The audience sang along with many old favourites.

The audience's engagement in the production was enhanced by the imaginitive use of the auditorium. The band occupied boxes stage right; Emily Pankhurst delivered her oration from a box stage left; coquettish lovelies came down among the audience to urge member to "Join up". Most enterprising was the madcap charge of a band of Irish soldiers who were in, out and around the audience.

Much credit must go to David Dorey who directed the show and conducted the band. In the programme he wrote "Our heartfelt ambition is to make you laugh, cry, and leave the theatre humming a favourite tune". Laugh? Definitely. Cry? Possibly. And as for the tunes, we'll be humming them for weeks.

Garry Greenaway,  Marc Wright,  Robin Gracey