JANEY GODLEY'S 'THE POINT OF YES'

REVIEWS

FOUR STARS Godley has dissected the putrefying effects of heroin with a candid skill. After receiving widespread plaudits for “The Point of Yes”, Glaswegian comic Janey Godley has now brought her one woman, two-character play to the fringe. Chronicling the effects of heroin on the Glasgow housing projects, Godley presents the monologues of two women, one a smack addict who prostitutes herself to fund her habit, the other who watches as heroin gradually rots the punters in her abusive husband’s pub. They are separated by the fateful decision to say “yes” or "no" to the drug but share similar hopes and fears when each recalls their suffering as heroin, harvested from post-revolution Iran and shipped in through the docks of Glasgow, arrives in Scotland for the first time. Godley demonstrates great subtlety when morphing between the two characters, cheerily reminiscing about her halcyon days in one moment and screaming drug-induced profanities in the next. The resulting world she presents is both tragic and darkly humorous containing, among others, the tale of a Glaswegian bar room hero, once able to shoplift a washing machine without being caught but now reduced to a toothless, one-eyed junky. Her Glaswegian cadences dominate the sparse, black box stage and it the sparseness of “The Point of Yes” that forms the foundation to its occasional brilliance. Where certain sections see the impact of her stark realism fade, there are moments in which the water seen in so many monologues has been squeezed out, leaving a powerful theatrical husk behind. In what is becoming a great Scottish artistic tradition, Godley has dissected the putrefying effects of heroin with a candid skill. Her efforts should certainly be seen. SkinnyFest, 9th August 2006 FOUR STARS I have to say straight off that I've met Janey Godley. It was at a comedy-writing workshop thing in Glasgow last year. 'So what?' I hear you say. Well, so this -- the thing about wee Janey Godley is, she's a wee bit scary, OK? A wee bit scary and a big bit talented. So that's all right, then. The Point Of Yes is about heroin. 'Chemical warfare', as Godley puts it. Her perspective comes, of course, from the front line. As a pub landlady in the East End of Glasgow for 14 years, Godley has seen at close quarters what smack can do to a person's life. In the personae of two versions of the same woman -- one who says 'yes' and one who says 'no' -- Godley vividly illustrates how drugs can emerge at the fork in the road, offering release from harsh circumstances. In a world where underclass women are perpetually abused and dumped on, it is chilling that the only thing that stops the woman who says 'no' is that she is more afraid of her husband than she is of heroin. 'He didn't want me to be controlled by anything except him,' she says. Some choice. In the persona of the addict, Godley is pathetically watchable. She's childlike in her rubbing her eyes and whining that she isn't a junkie, grotesque in her gleeful revelation that she's been saving a vein in her calf for her birthday hit. And while all of this could be dismissed as old hat, or a form of class tourism for the well-heeled of Edinburgh, there is something undeniably controversial here. Because we have in Scotland a faction of the socialist left who advocate legalising heroin; and yet here is their natural constituency depicted as victims of drug culture. Of course, the play is called The Point Of Yes, not The Inevitability Of Yes, and so it doesn't follow that addicts become so without their own volition. Nevertheless, it is a bold reminder that the liberal left often condone policies whose consequences they are best-placed to avoid. As Godley says of 'John', a good-looking bodybuilder turned into a haggard wraith by smack: 'There's nothing worse than a sophisticated junkie who's become a philosopher.' Thought-provoking, absorbing and occasionally funny, The Point Of Yes made its Fringe debut in 2003 and is back this year as one of three shows in which Godley is appearing. She also has a couple of books out, too, and is pretty much ubiquitous on radio and telly as well. But if you have time to catch only one of her shows, I would recommend this one edinburghguide.com, 9th August 2006 FOUR STARS Shirley Valentine meets Trainspotting in an extraordinarily funny and moving one woman show Beginning in the East End of Glasgow in 1979 when major supplies of heroin first appeared on the streets (and Margaret Thatcher on the steps of Number Ten), stand up comedian and writer Janey Godley brilliantly spins a double take on a single life. A teenage girl faces the choice of whether to try heroin for the first time – the point of yes – and thence Godley traces the parallel lives of the woman who said yes and the woman who said no. What is so clever about this piece is that things are never as clear cut as one might assume the pivotal decision would make them. The Janey who decides to say “no”, for example, does so only because she’s afraid of her abusive husband who wouldn’t tolerate anything controlling her other than him. The life she leads subsequently involves an almost claustrophobic devotion to the pub she runs with that husband, whose temper she has to learn to avoid and eventually control. The Janey who say yes at seventeen spirals into a life long dependency on heroine, yet even here there is dark humour, as when we learn that the best thing about rehab is the magical first hit on getting out. Godley proves herself a phenomenal actress, the two personalities beautifully delineated and equally sad and funny. The look drug-raddled Janey gives a member of the audience as she quietly asserts “I’m a person” is devastating in its sadness and bravery. The Janey who says “no” finally gets her now tamed husband to create her a big tinted window in the front of the pub. What she sees through that window at the shows climax is a real surprise and a perfect twist in the tale(s). The show is being used by social work departments to highlight the dangers of drug abuse. I suggest it is also a masterclass in how to put together a one person show. broadwaybaby.com, 10th August 2006 FOUR STARS Janey Godley scored a hit a couple of years ago with a stand-up show about her remarkable life. She's back, and once again drawing on her years as a pub landlady in the East End of Glasgow, but for a performance of a very different kind. The Point of Yes describes the devastation of heroin addiction, and while Godley acknowledges that this is well-worn ground, she points out that "you huvnae heard it fae me". We hear it from two versions of her: from the quick-witted barmaid describing how those around her were transformed into vomiting, snivelling wrecks; and from the woman she could have become if she'd said yes instead of no when a needle was passed around. Junkie Janey is an acutely observed character – it's very difficult not to wince at her expletive-ridden tirades. With her stand-up, Godley took the "if you don't laugh, you'll cry" approach, and while there's plenty of pitch-black comedy here, there are also moments of pure pain. In particular, a scene in which the grieving addict tries to apologise to her mother's coffin is as moving as it is horrifying.. The Herald, 15th August 2006 THREE STARS Well-liked Scottish comedian Janey Godley presents something unexpected: a dark and dramatic one-woman show about taking heroin in Glasgow in the 80s. It's a harrowing piece, with the ugliness of the junkie's life on full display. The play feels like a woman's less-glamorous 'Trainspotting' experience, with gritty descriptions of the evil and unpleasantness committed in the quest for drugs and the money to buy them. However there is none of that film's manic glee here; Godley gets stuck in her sadness, despite occasionally bitter comic moments. There is very little change in the piece from start to finish; better use of lighting would help, along with more varied staging, as the "stand and deliver" style used here doesn't do much for this anti-drugs screed. Three Weeks , 16th August 2006 THREE STARS Godley plays twin roles in this compelling one-woman show. Both are trapped in a web of addiction: one to a violent partner, the other to heroin. It's familiar Godley territory; before she turned to stand-up comedy she ran a pub in the drug-ghetto part of Glasgow with her violent husband. The junkie half of this divided self is the person Godley might have been if she'd said yes. She tells the story of the trajectory from first taste to hopeless addiction with anger and hard-won compassion; familiarity with her subject-matter hasn't bred contempt but clarity. There's an impressive humanism in this show, although its harshness is only barely softened by a tough survivor's humour. Godley's snivelling, scratching, whining junkie is a ranting, self-pitying creature, but never becomes a caricature. While one character says no to heroin, Godley is too intelligent not to show that, instead, she's hooked into a toxic marriage. Heroin stories are almost commonplace, but that doesn't make them any less harrowing. When they're delivered with the guts and force of personality of Godley, the tragedy is brought home afresh. Metro, 22nd August 2006