Review: (THE) WOMAN, Park Theatre

Photo credit: Charlie Flint

(the) Woman is Jane Upton’s answer to the cliche of ‘a play about being female’. It's first and foremost a play about motherhood, and by extension (but not conflation) womanhood, and the uncomfortable implications of the sizable overlap of the two. It’s an undulating hour and a half, with some refreshingly stark personal revelations, alongside wry, self-aware depictions of tropes we’ve come to expect on this subject.

The piece follows M, our protagonist and writer stand-in, as she embarks on two acts of creation; her children, and the play itself. Her frustration is palpable from the off, as is her exhaustion in Lizzy Watts’ unblushing and engaging performance. Reconciling the death of one dream (BAFTAs and Carrie Bradshaw’s NYC apartment) with the birth of another (two children) is an act of raw, painful and frequently comic vulnerability. Some scenes linger and stretch a little too far to try and fit everything in, but mostly the quick back-and-forth between M and the people in her life keeps the energy up. Upton’s relatable rugpulls of dialogue draws laughter and occasionally mid-scene applause from an audience Angharad Jones swiftly secures on her side.

Most notably, it’s an honest play in the literal sense: the characters seem to clearly speak their mind for most of the run time, doing away with the usual social niceties and obfuscations that might otherwise be a source of drama and instead focusing on the reality of the relationships. The shock of this candidness simmers into relief as the audience feels increasingly comfortable in M’s presence, pretence dropped, and we get to the meat of things. This is assisted by Lily Woodford’s confidently-designed lighting, creating uncomfortable domestic scenes lit without intimacy and colourful moments of creative inspiration. Upton’s more playful moments of immersion-breaking metafiction are worked into the otherwise straightforward narrative with a nudge and a wink, although perhaps could be more intricately through-lined to justify the tonal shifts.

Upton and Jones decide against the one-woman setup one might expect in favour of a multirolling cast of four, all skilfully navigating archetype and humanity with a confidence that balances out the sparse stage design. Jamie-Rose Monk is a notable standout, scoring a lot of the laughs as M’s best friend, aging herself convincingly as M’s mother, and drawing from an unexpected well of grief and gravitas as another struggling new mother on M’s hospital ward.

The sound design features staticky echoes of poignant lines to signal the end of a scene, and while not particularly groundbreaking, it supports the play’s framing device: this is a thing being written as it is performed, a play about writing the play. To that end, the audience sees projections of M typing and erasing scene headings, musing on her own narrative, and trying to work it into some structure with a resolution. It’s been done before, but fits well in a play about trying to rediscover enough of your identity to make something from scratch.

An honest and unpretentious play about struggling with creation.

**** Four stars

Reviewed by: Oli Burgin

(the) Woman plays at London’s Park Theatre until 25 October, with further info here.