Little Lark of London

Recently, I had the chance to interview Matthew Greenhough, the writer of The Death of Molly Miller, a black comedy show about “inequality, social media fame, gambling addiction and Wagamamas.” We discussed what inspired him to create the show, combining comedy and serious issues, and the importance of representation on stage. 

What inspired you to create The Death of Molly Miller?

“Beyoncé has the same 24 hours in the day that we do.” Do you remember when that soft lass from Love Island said that on a podcast, and people kicked off as if she’d personally deindustrialised the north of England? Well, that was hilarious, so I listened to the podcast hoping for more gems, only to find that – SHOCK HORROR – she wasn’t a 2D Thatcherite villain, but a deeply sympathetic young woman who was ideologically all over the place, trying and succeeding economically in the cesspit whipped up by dying embers of a late capitalist dystopia. Around the same time, Radio 4 asked me to come up with a radio play a bit like my stage play Bismillah! An ISIS Tragicomedy, and after then creating a couple of totally fictional characters, only inspired by real people, voila, The Death of Molly Miller was born.

What has the creative process for The Death of Molly Miller been like, especially transforming it from an audio version to a stage version?

The wonderful BBC Radio Drama Producer Kirsty Williams helped me shape the original radio version, as it was my first time working in that medium. I’d been smashing out plays for the stage for years, but it was a very different process. She was very gentle and patient, and the script came out in pretty good shape. Then I smashed it to bits and rebuilt it for the stage. The version you’ll see at the Fringe is bigger, longer and uncut – and has a dollop more profanity that would fly on the BBC.

How do you combine serious issues and comedy in your work?

When I started writing plays a decade ago, I thought I was writing straightforward dark comedies, but then someone described my work as like John Osborne with knob gags, and I liked that, so I just kept doing it. You write what you’d like to see as an audience, and for me, I like work that addresses serious issues, but that also makes me laugh. I also reckon humour makes difficult subjects much more palatable, and after I’d talked about ISIS using jokes in an earlier play, I realised there wasn’t much you couldn’t talk about through comedy if you’re considerate in your approach. 

That was quite a serious answer, so in the interest of levity: “ballbags”. See? It’s easy.

What has it been like bringing working-class individuals onto the stage?

Well, working-class people are obviously aliens, completely unknowable creatures who act and behave unlike good Twitter-fearing, middle-class, theatre-going folk, so bringing them to the stage took enormous skill. Especially as working-class people, in an environment such as a theatre, are liable to get confused, shit themselves, and tear the place up…

Working-class people make up a pretty decent chunk of the British population, even if we make up a tiny fraction of creators and audiences in the theatre world. So telling stories about working-class people is easy, you just let people from working-class backgrounds tell them… for once.

Do you have any advice for those who want to bring representation to the theatre world?

Yes, bring working-class representation into the dialogue about inclusivity. There have been vital steps forward in recent years about centring previously marginalised voices in the arts and culture to ensure representation where it’s previously been sorely lacking. But class has rarely been part of that conversation when it should have been at the centre of it.

I’ve just started working in the foothills of film and telly (partly because, ridiculously, it’s less of a closed shop than theatre, even though, ya know, it’s still a pretty damn closed shop!) Obviously, there’s some crossover between the screen industries with the British Theatre world – the stage often being where talent in film and TV start off. Anyway, 42% of Bafta winners and 67% of British Oscar winners went to private schools. Only 7% of the population is privately educated. How can culture be representative when it’s still the socioeconomically privileged telling all the stories? Centre class, baby. It’s the only way.

And again, in the interest of levity: “ballbags,” obviously.

What do you hope audiences take away from The Death of Molly Miller?

We’re just trying to make the best show we can, which hopefully leaves our audience riotously entertained – that’s what we’re aiming for.

It’s a show about vital topics, social alienation, addiction and Wagamamas, but it’s meant to be thrilling, funny and above all, fun. If they feel other things along the way, that’s nice too, but we just hope the audience leaves having had a great time!

How would you describe The Death of Molly Miller in one word?

“Ballbags”.

The Death of Molly Miller will be performed at the Edinburgh Festival at 6.30pm in Underbelly Cowgate (Big Belly) from 3rd – 26th August. To book, visit https://underbellyedinburgh.co.uk/events/event/the-death-of-molly-miller 

Photo Credit: Aimee Morley