The 1940s hits, played by on- and offstage bands, cross-fades to cacophony. English bomber pilot Peter is suspended above us. His plane is hit, his parachute in shreds; only his radio still functions. He connects with American ground staff radio operator June (standing before us on the in-the-round stage). During a snatched, crazily bantering exchange before Peter bales out, the two fall in love. Kaylah Copeland and Thomas Dennis, as the couple, calibrate this crucial, tone-setting scene to perfection, delivering an emotional punch with a light touch and grounding fantasy in emotional reality.
Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger’s 1946 film, A Matter of Life and Death, was made with serious intent, as a propaganda piece, to heal divisions in the aftermath of the second world war. It brings the dead of past conflicts into contact with the living via a seemingly whimsical romance – and a seemingly endless, celestial staircase, here magically conjured to our imaginations through the interplay of Alexandra Stafford’s lighting and Laura McEwen’s designs.
