Baggage Reclaim, The Bull
On Tuesday evening, officially week two of The Wanstead Fringe, some of us were lucky enough to once again find ourselves cosied up on a Chesterton sofa at The Bull, enjoying another brilliant new piece of theatre.
The stage upstairs was, as always, completely transformed, this time taking us into the world of a baggage reclaim department. Hidden in the basement, away from the public, this part of the airport security system is an unknown realm for most of us. The ‘rumours’ amongst airport staff are that ‘those down there have done something so wrong they need to be hidden away’. The cast of characters we meet who work there, however, seem pleasant enough - at first.
First up, there is Gerri, who has been there the longest. Despite everyone’s doubts, they insist they ‘actually chose’ to be there, turning down a management position and trying to fix the broken system by supporting the little guys. Gerri, played by Rebecca Millar, is a dour and practical person, straight-laced and bottled up but with a softness underneath. Next we meet Sandra, played by Olivia Hespe, who is the complete opposite - relegated to the baggage reclaim department after hugging a lost child (which pretty much sums her up), she is the glue that holds the department together and, according to Gerri ‘brings out the best of people… she is the best of people’.
Gerri and Sandra have found ways to adapt to their repetitive roles ‘down there’, such as creating mnemonics to help them remember their duties, or inventing ‘The Game’ - which involves inventing stories about the lives of the people to whom the lost luggage might belong. Their way of life is challenged, however, with the arrival of new team member CJ (played by Elissa Nicholson) who has been sent down after failing to get along with her previous team, feeling victimised and bullied by them. CJ cannot quite bring herself to accept the mundane and ‘sad’ nature of her new colleagues in Baggage Reclaim - believing wholeheartedly that she is different and ‘deserves better’.
This is a thought provoking and funny new show written and produced by Millar, Hespe and Nicholson and brought to us by Oida! Theatre. It is both a commentary on the absurdity of life, of jobs and a statement on how we treat those whose positions in society we deem lower than our own - those in the department feeling that they ‘may as well be the suitcases’. On a much deeper level, however, this play is about what we are willing to accept and whether we choose to submit and make peace with our lot.
After a complaint is made to HR we see the characters attitudes towards their positions more closely scrutinised. HR here consists of a recorded voice which sounds much like a broken record, repeating the same questions and statements and treating the characters like cogs in a machine rather than viewing them as individuals with feelings. We discover that, despite indeed being ‘hidden away’, it seems Gerri and Sandra wouldn’t have it any other way. They have become comfortable and almost comforted by their way of life, and in the moments captured by Sandra’s polaroid camera we find that they actually enjoy the stability and repetition of their daily routines.
CJ, in this case, serves as a reminder of their forgotten hopes and dreams. In a cringe worthy scene in which Gerri and Sandra go through CJ’s personal bag, finding expired Glastonbury wristbands, incomplete phd applications, job listings etc, they decide to play ‘The Game’ and come up with ‘someone desperately trying to figure themselves out and failing spectacularly’. CJ, in retaliation, berates them for wishing to ‘find people whose lives are a bit shittier’.
On the whole, the performances and writing here are a delight. Both a comedy and a sort of soap-opera-esque drama, this play opens up questions about what we will endure. The path towards our dreams and goals can be tough and perhaps Gerri and Sandra have it sussed finding happiness in what they have. They are willing to suppress bigger ambitions and have made peace with what is simple, no matter how boring and closeted. In many ways, however, this futility is rather disturbing. So the questions are: when do we give up on our dreams? Is embracing mundanity the real secret to happiness?