Last Reviewed on March 10, 2020, by eNotes Editorial. Word Count: 1376
The Changing Room by David Storey is a gritty realist drama, written and first performed in 1971. It is set in a rugby league locker room. Storey integrated much of his life growing up into his plays. As a teen, he worked for a tent contractor, learning how to construct and deconstruct tents for events. He later wrote The Contractor, in which a tent for a wedding is erected and then dismantled on stage. In college, Storey supported his way through a fine arts school by playing rugby. He was the halfback of the Leeds RFLC professional league club. Storey later wrote several books and plays set in the rugby milieu.
The Changing Room is told in three acts. The first act takes place as the rugby team arrives and prepares for a game, the second act is set during the game break, and the third act is after the game. There is a large cast of characters, including all of the men who are involved with the team, from the team owner to the man who cleans the locker room. Storey breathes life into this setting and these men with intensely observed naturalism, never stepping back and commenting on behavior, yet understanding keenly the distinctions and rituals of the game, the team, and especially the class structures and hierarchy of British society.
The first and last person seen in the play is Harry. Harry is the cleaner for the team. He takes care of the locker room, lays out various clothing and equipment items for the players before the game, and picks up dirty and discarded items after the game. He does the laundry and mops up the showers; his working role for the team is the least glamorous of all. For most of the play, Harry is a background character, either ignored or ordered about by the others, and when the entire team is gathered, he has almost nothing to say. But, on his own, Harry’s personality shines through.
The play is set in 1971, at the height of the Cold War between the USSR and the United States. Harry is intensely paranoid about a Russian invasion. At the play’s start, while he is preparing the locker room and chatting with a player, Patsy, who habitually arrives early to dress for the game, Harry confides,
Harry: Read a book...they had a special machine...blew these winds o’er, you see...specially freezing...mixed it with a chemical...frozen ought... Froze the entire country... Then Ireland... Then crossed over to America and froze it out... Then, when everything wa’ frozen, they came o’er in special boots and took over... Here...America... Nobody twigged it. Nobody cottoned on, you see.
Harry goes on and on about this secret invasion to anyone who will listen, but most of the players laugh at him and don’t take him seriously. Harry grumbles and goes about his work. He later tells the team owner, Sir Frederick Thornton, during the second act, as he and Thornton wait for the players to come in for half-time, that he has never watched a modern rugby game, not even one played by this team. For him, rugby in the past was a better game, and as for modern players, “not one of them could hold a candle to the past"; “if they ever played a real team today they wouldn’t last fifteen seconds.” Thornton pays no attention to him. At the end of the play, after the game, Harry sings religious hymns as he mops out the shower, and he is the last man onstage, sweeping.
Storey’s voice as a writer spoke for the working class in Britain, and his work reflects how, at the same time in British theater, there was a new generation of working-class British writers, actors, and directors, represented by young artists such as Judi Dench, Helen Mirren, Alan Bates, Brian Cox, Tom Stoppard, and Lindsay Anderson, who directed almost all of David Storey’s plays. Storey’s work is often compared to Anton Chekhov’s—like Chekhov, Storey is a detailed and realistic painter of scene, atmosphere, and people. The routine of the locker room is hypnotic to watch, and if audiences pay attention, small details suggest a lot about human behavior.
For instance, Walsh, a forward on the team, is a loud-mouthed joker. He makes crude sexual jokes and keeps most of the men laughing, though he is not a favorite with everyone, especially the players who either do not find him funny or are perhaps more taciturn by nature. These types of dramatic contrasts bring the characters into focus. In the third act, Walsh is heard from off-stage in the shower, making endless lewd comments about how he is “waiting for Barry,” one of the other team members, to come in and join him in the shower. No one seems willing to stop him until the owner, Thornton, appears.
Thornton (going to the bath entrance): And who’s thy waiting for, then, Walshy?
Walsh (off): Oh, good evening, Sir Frederick…
Thornton: I’ll give you Sir bloody Frederick… I’ll be inside that bath in a bloody minute.
Walsh (off): Any time, Sir Frederick, any time is good enough for me.
The players laugh.
Walsh is a bit impudent at the end of this exchange, but he is clearly pulling back, as the team’s owner, an aristocrat, is none too happy with Walsh’s behavior. There are dozens of moments in the play when the players grovel to Thornton, for he is their meal ticket, their boss, and a member of the British upper class.
Storey is not quite done with Walsh, though. When Walsh finally appears in the locker room, the following occurs:
Walsh, with great circumspection, the towel still around him, has started to put on his clothes: vest and shirt.
The sense is that, for all of his blather and cheek, Walsh is actually quite shy and has delayed coming in from the shower with his jokes because he does not want to be naked or dress in front of the other men. Pretty much every player strips naked in the locker room in the first and third acts of the play. Storey doesn’t make a big deal of this; it is what happens here. But inside of what happens, he imbues subtle moments with added depth.
The team wins this game. Rugby is a rough sport, and several of the players are injured during play. One of the players, Kendal, is brought in just before half-time with a broken nose. The team’s hard-working medic and masseuse, Luke, takes care of him. The team’s trainer, Crosby, looks on, ready to move on.
Luke wipes away the blood with cotton wool, examines the damage. Sandford pours a drop of disinfectant from the bottle into the bowl of water. Luke dips in the cotton wool, wipes Kendal’s nose.
Crosby, not really interested, having wiped the blood from his hands and his track-suit, looks on impatiently over Luke’s back.
Kendal: A bit o’ plaster: I’ll go back on.
Luke: Nay, lad. The game’s over for you today.
Kendal: I’ll be all right…l’ll get back on…
Crosby: He’s off, then, is he?
Crosby pulls Kendal from the game and assigns his position to one of the younger reserve players, Spencer, who has been ready for this chance. Kendal is taken off to hospital. Other players are mostly sanguine about Kendal’s injury—that’s the way it goes in rugby, and it seems that many of the players don’t like the overly fastidious Kendal anyway. They comment he might be “too bloody old" and should retire.
Storey sugarcoats nothing in The Changing Room, and while today there are many who may not relate to his strong portrayal of this macho culture, the play still exerts power, thanks to the writer’s ability to show every detail of these men’s behavior—the good, bad, and ugly, as well as what they share and what they hold back from one another—and how the game of rugby binds them together on the field and in the locker room.
Last Updated on May 7, 2015, by eNotes Editorial. Word Count: 773
David Storey’s play is set in the changing room of a Rugby League club somewhere in the North of England in the later 1960’s. All the twenty-two characters in the play are male, and all are connected with the game of rugby. Thirteen of them constitute the team, two are reserves, and the rest are trainers, masseurs, or club officials of varying status. It is accordingly important to understand some basic facts about the game of Rugby League—facts that Storey, writing for an English audience, could afford to leave unsaid.
Rugby, like American football, is a professional game in that the players are paid. Unlike American football, though, the players are not paid much. The game is rigorously localized, with a small, by no means wealthy, base of support, and the characters are almost all working-class in origin. Rugby, moreover, is a violent contact sport, with an ethic of male hardness, if not brutality. Players wear little padding, accidents and injuries are common, and substitutions (in Storey’s time) were used only in cases of incapacitating injury.
In the play, all these facts are left unstated, but they mark much of the overt and covert action. In the first act, the players are getting ready for the game. They do so with—by American standards—curious unconcern, joking continually, deriding their captain, and appearing to show far more interest in their running conversations than in what is going to start in a few minutes. The challenge for the audience is to “decode” their chatter to see if it can be interpreted to mean something more than appears on the surface. The subjects of this initial conversation are, in fact, extremely various. Harry, the cleaner, a lazy, stupid, elderly man, is convinced that the cold weather has been created by the Russians, who are going to freeze the sea and invade in special boots. The players all treat this theory with derision. They are more interested in horseracing, the cigar Walsh is trying to smoke in defiance of the team trainer, the electric tool kit that Kendal has bought, the various aches and pains they have from last week’s game, and other trivialities. Probably most members of the audience are left, at the end of this act, as the players run out of the room onto the field, wondering what the point of the play will be.
Act 2 takes place just before, during, and just after the halftime interval. It is dominated by Sir Frederick Thornton, not a player but the Club Chairman, a wealthy local businessman. In spite of his wealth and status, he appears quite happy to talk on a level of apparent equality even to Harry, though there is a certain byplay between him and Mackendrick, the Club Secretary, an accountant junior to Thornton in status both inside and outside the club but much more inclined to emphasize his (doubtful) authority over Harry and the players. Thornton seems to want to be an “insider.” The team masseur, Luke, remarks that he has been seen sitting in the stands alone as late as ten at night. Mackendrick, by contrast, sees the team as a business, or perhaps as an exercise in public relations. He (like Harry) has no interest in football. This byplay between the nonplayers is contrasted with the technical discussion of the game among the players at halftime, with the appearance of Kendal with a broken nose just after the game restarts, and with radio commentary heard on two occasions near the end of the act. The team is pulling back from a losing position, and the game is now tied.
The game is over at the start of act 3, and the players, now familiar to the audience, have won it. They resume their conversation in good humor and without the sense of tension apparent before the game; to make matters even better, Walsh has won a lucky bet on the horses. Moore, the reserve and substitute sent on after Kendal was taken to the hospital, has enjoyed his exposure to publicity. The players are leaving to meet wives and girlfriends. However, there is a sense of something less than well-being. To some extent this feeling results from the fact that questions are left unresolved. Will the team accept Thornton as a man like themselves? Will Kendal get his place back on the team? How long can some of the older players continue? The audience is now able to formulate for itself these questions which the team has approached only indirectly. It is the unspoken questions which make the final mood of the play a somber one.
Last Updated on May 7, 2015, by eNotes Editorial. Word Count: 406
A major device in the play is its use of local accent, or dialect. The characters, all evidently Yorkshiremen, use the archaic “thou, thee, thy” forms for “you,” as is still common in the area. They use the word “lake” for “play,” “ought” for “anything,” “nowt” for “nothing.” It is, then, striking when one of the players imitates Patsy’s girlfriend’s non-northern accent in a parody of high-class speech. Other distinctive voices are those of the radio commentator—detached, amused, nonparticipatory—and of Mackendrick. In counterpoint to them comes the wordless roaring of the crowd, the urban masses whose culture the players represent. Figures of “alienness” and of authority include the referee, dressed in his distinctively different uniform and representing a law-abiding ethic which the players, intent on mayhem, conspicuously ignore. The players’ own uniforms are meanwhile a major prop, indicating team solidarity and suppression of individuality. They are carefully donned during act 1 (which ends with the players running out in numerical order from One to Thirteen), worn throughout act 2, and shed during act 3.
Further indicators of the game world, with its artificial unity and temporary forgetting of differences, include a series of quasi-technical rituals, on which Storey (a former professional rugby player himself) is an authority: forming a scrum, or scrimmage, passing the ball down the line of backs, being inspected for dangerous rings, studs, or buckles by the referee, rubbing hands on the resin-board, inhaling ammonia, running out in team order—broken only by the captain (Number Six, the stand-off half, or “quarterback”), who runs out first. Against these stands an equally powerful set of rituals establishing the nongame world: Walsh urinating in the bath, violent horseplay with buckets and hoses, obsessive joking over genitals, a practical joke exploiting Walsh’s illiteracy. It is ironic that the game world is in its way a serious one, while the nongame world is continually comic. Outside both, though, lies the real world, never present in the changing room itself but repeatedly threatening to invade the characters’ consciousness.
The Changing Room is a play of casual conversation, with few revelations or surprises. “Locker rooms,” to use the American term, are probably like that all the time. However, even in the most realistic conversations, more is usually meant than is actually said. Storey is a master of the art of making words seem at once casual and significant, joking and serious, full of machismo and deeply anxious.
Last Updated on May 7, 2015, by eNotes Editorial. Word Count: 104
Sources for Further Study
Bygrave, M. “David Storey: Novelist or Playwright?” Theatre Quarterly 1 (April-June, 1971): 31-36.
Free, William J. “The Ironic Anger of David Storey.” Modern Drama 16 (December, 1973): 307-316.
Hutchings, William. David Storey: A Casebook. New York: Garland, 1992.
Hutchings, William. The Plays of David Storey: A Thematic Study. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1988.
Liebman, Herbert. The Dramatic Art of David Storey: The Journey of a Playwright. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1996.
Taylor, John Russell. David Storey. Harlow, England: Longman Group, 1974.
Taylor, John Russell. The Second Wave: British Drama for the Seventies. New York: Hill and Wang, 1971.
Worth, Katharine J. Revolutions in Modern English Drama. London: Bell, 1972.
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