The Bush Theatre is celebrating its 30th Birthday this year and joining in the celebrations is Richard Cameron's 'The Glee Club', a tale set in 1962 about five Yorkshire miners and a church organist who "go to work, come 'ome and sing songs of an evenin'." Theirs is an uncomplicated life of going down the pit, entertaining at working men's clubs, and hard drinking. Their morality is simple: bad is as obvious as the black coal on their faces and good is as clean as the soap that washes it off.
    This unquestioning value system is put to the test as each character reveals his own frailties, regrets and secrets, and what seems to be their fierce loyalty to each other is burnt to a cinder when the pianist, Phil, is found to be more Liberace than Russ Conway. 
     This production is ensemble work at its best. The actors are generous and comfortable with each other and clearly relish singing, bantering and being lads together. Their laughter is real, which makes ours more so; and it is a credit to them and to the director, Mike Bradwell, that they have created a group of rounded men who don't descend into 'gritty northern' cliché.
    Bant is the sharpest knife in the drawer and David Schofield plays him with wit and integrity. Shaun Prendergast as Scobie is mischievous and energetic. James Hornsby's Jack is strong and dependable, while Roderick Smith's Walt is a man lost in his own weakness. Oliver Jackson is the naïve youngster Colin who dreams of being a pop idol (some things never change), and David Bamber plays Phil with intelligence and sensitivity.
    The small auditorium is filled with nostalgia as the melodies of Mario Lanza and Frankie Lane are brought alive with slapstick, kitsch and, moreover, real singing talent. Cameron's dialogue evokes a time when men were men and women stayed at home with babies. However, we soon realise that a golden age of masculinity and community, so often bathed in a romantic northern light, was underpinned by bigotry, fear and prejudice. And just as the rough language contrasts with their sweet songs, so these tough men surrender to their lot with a cry of "Que sera, sera."
Loma-Ann Bonner