Review: DRIFTWOOD, The Other Place - RSC
Photo credit: Marc Brenner
Driftwood settles into The Other Place with atmosphere to spare and a story that feels as though it is constantly on the brink of something sharper. Martina Laird's debut play is rich in intention, steeped in the textures of 1950s Trinidad and framed by the slow unravelling of empire, and there is a genuine thrill in watching a writer tackle material this ambitious straight out of the gate.
“Dis is my home. My whole life. My history here. And de only future I go have is here.” It is a line that lingers, summing up the play's central pull between identity, land and belonging. Set within ALMA, a Port of Spain gentlemen's club owned by the quietly imposing Mansion and governed by the watchful Pearl, the story unfolds as a kind of emotional custody battle. Ruby circles with ambition and allure, while the arrival of Diamond, a long lost son with a dangerous deal in motion, threatens to destabilise everything. As political independence looms, personal stakes rise just as quickly.
There is no shortage of ambition here, and it is warmly felt. Laird threads together themes of colonialism, ownership and the aching need to belong, while exploring the imbalance of power that leaves white authority largely untouched as native Trinidadians strive for recognition and advancement. It is bold in scope, and it is clear how much heart has gone into it. Some threads are introduced with real intrigue but are not always followed through, which makes the narrative a little difficult to track on a first visit. This is a piece that may well reward a second viewing, and there is enough richness here to make that a genuinely appealing prospect.
The performances do much of the heavy lifting, and what a pleasure it is to watch. Ellen Thomas brings a quiet, layered strength to Pearl, balancing maternal distance with an undercurrent of political awareness. Martins Imhangbe's Diamond grows into himself beautifully as the play unfolds, revealing depth and conflict beneath the surface, while Cat White's Ruby cuts through with calculated intensity. Across the board, there is a wonderful sense of commitment and care, and the ensemble makes every moment count.
Where the production could push further is in its pacing. A stillness settles over larger sections, with monologues often replacing genuine interaction. Conversations can feel spoken rather than truly shared, which creates a distance that is hard to shake. Justin Audibert's direction captures the mood and heat of the setting with skill, though the rhythm might benefit from a little more urgency to help the tension build as fiercely as the story deserves.
Visually, the production is a real delight. Sadeysa Greenaway-Bailey's set and costume design evokes a fading colonial elegance with tremendous care and detail. Particularly striking is the set itself, a single room that breathes and expands as the drama within it intensifies, its walls seeming to contract and stretch in response to every confrontation and confession. It is an inspired piece of design, grounding the story in a world that feels both tangible and symbolic, and a constant reminder of the craft and imagination that runs throughout the entire production.
As a debut, Driftwood is undeniably promising and, frankly, exciting. There is a distinct voice here and a willingness to tackle complex, layered themes with real courage. The resolution, centred on acceptance through sacrifice, feels a touch smaller than the emotional journey that precedes it, but that is, perhaps, the growing pain of a remarkable new talent still finding the full force of their vision.
There is so much to admire in Driftwood, and plenty to cherish. It is evocative, thoughtful and brimming with potential, and it marks Martina Laird as a writer very much worth watching.
*** Three stars
Reviewed by: Alanna Boden