Wendi Peters was wonderful in the Cecelia Ahearn one-woman play, Mrs Whippy. Time and again her expressions told many tales and touched many emotions with an audience who loved the experience, the entertainment and the-good-night-out fun of it all. Once she stood in a pool of fading light and her eyes glistened and filled-up with tears and you wanted to hug her and reassure her. Other times when she rallied and stood up for herself, you wanted to stomp and cheer her on.
This was fine writing by a chic-lit author who is selling millions of books. Mrs Whippy literally tells the dysfunctional tale of Emelda O’Grady who is deserted by husband Charlie for a Russian dancer more than half her age. She has five boys, one in prison, one elsewhere and three at home.
But it is a lonely home, the monotony broken by her dead dear mother who still talks to her. Emelda is slightly bewildered but her one remaining pleasure is ice-cream, especially Ben And Jerry’s. She can re-live her memories by the tastes and flavours of ice-cream and she can salivate with obvious pleasure as she reels off the magic of ice-cream. You just had to love Wendy Peters’ almost orgasmic recitation of flavours and her ecstasy at the very sound of the Mr. Whippy van.
By the second act she has survived and taken a job as a packer in a supermarket and Michael Scott shows his directorial flair when a fridge starts tossing out items like a checkout conveyor belt gone crazy. Michael McCaffery designed a fine set that added to the life-affirming experience.
I loved the depth and scope of Wendi Peters acting and I managed to rekindle my fine memories of favourite ice-cream flavours and I know that by taste I will remember Mrs Whippy and feel happy inside.
