Before 2024, I’d never actually been to the theatre to see a play. I mean, I guess I’d been as part of school, you know those productions they put on for the book you’re reading in class, and you flat out don’t pay attention to any of it because the book is boring and you don’t really understand it in the first place. My one memory of a theatre production that came to our school was of a boy in the class next to mine shouting, during the Q&A at the end, “Is the hot girl on the left single?“
So, I decided I actually needed to see theatre in person to properly appreciate it, and as part of ✓ Project Bucket List I happenstanced into an interesting situation that gave me a better view than I’d’ve ever expected. As part of the whole “getting out of my shell” thing, I also happened to get into a happy relationship with an immensely talented actress, Kymberley Cochrane. In October 2024, she got cast in an independent theatre production by Claybody Theatre, over in Stoke on Trent, titled Bright Lights Over Bentilee. The show was based on the real life UFO sightings from the late 1960s in the area, and was turned into an outstanding production by Conrad Nelson and Deborah McAndrew.
Kymberley stayed over in Stoke on Trent for the duration of the rehearsals and production of the show, so I visited often, evenings and weekends. I got ample opportunity to sit to one side of the stage watching the cast and crew put together this theatre production. During the show’s running, I got tickets to both opening and closing night, and in between, I saw a few scenes from the side-lines as they performed to a fully booked theatre, based in the reutilised space of an old pottery factory.
One of the amazing things to see was how the show transformed over time. Characters were rewritten, and key points in the story were juggled between the cast within the first few weeks. The room went from a cold, empty factory floor to a fully kitted out stage with lighting, hologram effects, and smoke machines, along with racks and racks of seating. Even over the course of the show, the director gave feedback to the cast which led to changes in the delivery of the lines and the shape of the characters.
After every performance, I’d stand outside waiting for Kymberley to get out of costume and I’d hear people, locals, talking about the show. The show was full of little references to places nearby, pubs, streets. An inside joke about the name of a street had the crowd roaring in praise. The audience had reconnected with their local heritage, through laughter, poignant comments about it’s history, and deep, graceful performances based on excellent writing.
A peculiar thing happens when your partner is a great actor, and you see them perform for the first time. Despite how supportive you’ve been, and how much you’ve told them they’re good, it turns out they’re actually really fucking good. Watching Kymberley bring her character to life on stage was mesmerising. I’ve tried to wrap my head around what an actor means when they treat the character as someone else, but I just can’t seem to figure it out. To see your partner up on stage and to be sat in a crowd as the people around you google her name in the interval is an odd experience, but one that fills me with so much pride.
I think one of the things I walked away with from watching Bright Lights Over Bentilee from the side-lines was a sense of awe at how much the production touched people. I had this vision of Theatre in my head as this transactional, “one night only” kind of experience. Like going to the cinema with live actors, and moving on with your life. But seeing the impact that this one left on the local area was inspiring.
A full on community cast of local amateur actors filled the scenes with life, and people from far and wide came to return to Stoke to hear stories about things their parents told them about. Apprentices from local businesses combined forces with the team to create UFOs and art installations, and artists developed work that included members of the cast and the community.
I suppose, one of the things I’ve lacked during my life is a sense of community. I roam a lot, I dip in and out of groups as my interests change, and having moved around plenty, I don’t really have roots. I see it from the outside sometimes, where a group of friends have been together for decades, or someone is so intertwined with a town that they can walk down a high street and wave to all the independent shop owners. Hell, I even see it with religion, where that sense of community binds everybody together in a really sweet way.
Theatre provided that too. I got to see a community up close, and even feel welcomed into it, and I got to see the impact of glittery eyes in the crowd and beaming faces in the foyer, as people remembered that they were a part of that community too. I realise now that there’s not really a price you can put on the value of community. Independent theatre in the UK is struggling, it relies on government funding, which is fast being sapped up by larger theatre production companies.
I have no doubt that your town or city has, in some capacity, a theatre scene. Go to local theatre, tickets are cheap, enjoy the night, don’t take it too seriously, and have a look around at the people sat with you. In a time when so many of us feel lost and isolated from community, who are you sat next to?
