Review: MOLLUSC, Riverside Studios
Mollusc is a new piece of theatre by Caoimhe Blair, developed from her award-winning short play and having its first run at the Riverside Studios. It’s a self-proclaimed “anti-rom-com”, a non-linear voyeuristic indulgence into the personal lives of El and Frankie, a queer couple that are doomed to fail as we meet them first getting re-acquainted in the waiting room of an abortion clinic.
Lilly Butcher’s direction is simple yet effective: the cast of three remodel the space between scenes as El and Frankie build a life together. It feels as if Butcher’s primary intention is to give the script as much room to breathe as possible, and it thus works well as a showcase for Blair’s writing, which is succinct and surprising, yet also natural. The audience will recognise the cadence of the conversation easily: whether or not we’ve been in this situation, we feel we know these people already, restlessly drawn to one another and at the same time, constantly rubbing each other up the wrong way with each little jab and joke.
Blair crafts a story that on the surface is straightforward: girl meets girl through online dating, they hit it off, Frankie’s corporate world clashes with El’s queer community-focused lifestyle, they fight, they are drawn back together, they reunite and can’t quite escape one another, and each scene jumps to another part of their timeline, with the order in which the audience is shown their milestones chosen succinctly to get the full picture gradually, tugging on strands of intrigue as we wonder how they could have gotten from A to such a starkly different B.
Shermya, who plays Frankie, does so with growing warmth. Initially the less open of the pair, we watch Frankie’s confidence solidify with the relationship, but also her self-assurance in her own identity as it’s questioned over and over again. Shermya’s ebb and flow of emotion endears the audience to Frankie as she fits herself into the new relationship. Izzie Harding-Perrott’s El is bolder and louder from the beginning, a more recognisable modern queer person, but they portray El’s vulnerability as complex and often catty, their certainty of who they are acting more as something to cling to than build on. Jamie Whitelaw plays “The Man” - all men and every man that appears in the story, often unwelcome, usually as something to laugh at, and he does it with goodwill and humour that puts the audience at ease, and then sets alarm bells ringing when he swaps it for a performance more sinister. The cast are a coherent unit, with their own brand of chemistry in each combination, and who bolster each other in the growing emotional stakes to keep the audience gripped until the end.
Mollusc poses questions about the rigidity of sexuality that might be uncomfortable for people to address, but it does so with the best intentions. Though the set could use a little building out, the real focus is the writing, and the characters the audience grows attached to despite the short run time. It is a straightforward story told in a compellingly complex way.
Full of fun and feeling.
**** Four stars
Reviewed by: Oli Burgin