The Steamie

Steam rises from the grubby basins of the Carnegie Street Steamie, passing up over grand fluted colonnades and out of a window where the stars peer in on a Hogmanay eve, a disco ball promising glamour from far above. It is the perfect image for Tony Roper’s The Steamie: a subterranean slice of working-class Glasgow with dreams constantly pulling upwards. Everything comes through here: dirt, gossip, loneliness, friendship, ambition... all that goes away in the wash.

The production is an anemoic time machine for an era far beyond its years. Roper’s 1987 TV drama has survived with an oddly comforting appeal, from the lofty heights of Thatcherism’s self-made society back to one where people’s daily lives were a shared experience. The cast’s instinct for character makes the King’s Theatre feel like a microcosmic living piece of post-war Glasgow. Doreen dreams of the big picture, Dolly dreams loudly and unapologetically, Magrit of simply being respected as a woman, while Mrs Culfeathers holds on to the experience of people being together.

The musicality of Scots is addictive and thoroughly enjoyable to listen to. Eden Barrie’s Doreen sings of her “big picture” of large houses, marble floors, telephones and all the mod-cons, while Louise McCarthy’s Dolly gets her own gleeful fantasy, disco ball included. The comedy can be wonderfully simple, as an endless debate over mince and tatties draws bigger laughs as it goes on. But the first half is stronger, with some of the musical numbers beginning to feel too similar as the show runs on, and parts feeling extended. Lesley Mackie’s Mrs Culfeathers is the standout, wearing well the tragic loneliness of the modernising world beneath her guileless comedy.

Beneath the laughter lies a simple fear that gives The Steamie its staying power. The women fear what will happen when the steamie no longer brings people together, in the newer laundrettes where people don't speak to each other and simply watch their individual machines. The Steamie may be trapped in its time, but automation anxiety, loneliness and the erosion of shared experience are not.

The Steamie by Rerr Terr Productions, Neil Laidlaw Productions, Selladoor Worldwide, Dundee Rep Theatre.