UP THE FEEDER, DOWN THE 'MOUTH AND BACK AGAIN

Princes Wharf, Bristol

Page 16 of the script of Up the Feeder, Down the 'Mouth and Back Again contains a simple stage direction: "The doors are opened, to reveal a ship docking." This is surely one of theatre's great folies de grandeur, with its implied assumption that a 1000 ton cargo vessel can be as controllable as a papier-mâché prop. But on the night, when the doors of the quayside shed which houses the audience roll back, there she is on the silent waters of Bristol docks: a genuine working steamer, entering on cue with the solid reliability of a theatrical Dame hitting her mark for the fiftieth time. It is a breathtaking moment, leaving the awe-struck audience applauding the hubristic dream made reality. If nothing else, Up the Feeder is a work of logistical genius, and production manager Derek Simpson should be centre stage taking the biggest bow.

The ship is not the only mechanical artefact on show in this production. ACH Smith's distillation of the legends and anecdotes of Bristol's docks is staged on the quayside where thirty years ago the action it describes was day-to-day life. Working cranes, lorries, forklifts and a steam train which whooshes across the acting area with aplomb and a cheery 'toot toot' all help to give a strong feel of the reality underlying the tales told in the play. Crates are swung, timber is carried, and those of us accustomed to today's robiticised container-processing plants get a chance to see just how cargoes used to be man-handled - in the true sense of the word - in the glory days of Bristol's port.

Yet despite the excitement, verisimilitude and at times open-mouthed wonder which all this 'reality theatre' provides, it is ultimately inessential to the core of the production. Whilst the extras swarm up and down the ship in an unloading routine which is Busby Berkeley-esque in its smooth symmetrical fluidity, the real story is being told in the foreground. Smith has refined the reminiscences of many Bristol dockers and mariners into a collage of oral history which conjures up high seas and high jinx with no real need for props or technical tours de force. For example, Magicote's account of running away to sea at the age of 13, circling the globe on a Norwegian whaling ship and celebrating his 15^th birthday in Kobe, Japan cannot be illustrated with any number of cranes or crates. It relies on the ancient craft of the storyteller, the playwright and the actor: painting pictures with words. It is those intangible images which constitute most of the truly magic moments in Up the Feeder, and which ensure that this production is more than just a pageant of historical re-enactment.

Nevertheless, the one thing that that elevates this production from a theatrical staging into a major event is, undeniably, the ship. Although the city is no longer a working port, the willingness to strive for - and achieve - the audacious which once motivated Bristol's merchant venturers still has its heirs in the workshops of the Old Vic. For all the mental pictures which the audience may take away with them, the one thing every punter will tell their grandchildren is the day they saw an ocean-going steamer make its entrance in a play.

Toby O'Connor Morse

Runs to 8 July. Sold out.