HOW TO SURVIVE YOUR MOTHER at the King’s Head Theatre

★★★

“there are some lovely moments, and some laudable dialogue between Maitland and his wife”

How to Survive Your Mother is the newest play from playwright and former journalist Jonathan Maitland, dramatising the work of his 2007 memoir of the same name. Working with director Oliver Dawe, this play explores Maitland’s relationship with his mother, throughout his childhood and early adulthood, as she hot desks her way through different men, and opens up Britain’s first ever gay hotel (this definitely didn’t get enough attention).

Whilst the piece is strewn with moments of humour and astute observation, it was let down by a distinct lack of theatrical action. And by this, I mean a narrative arc; a dramatic structure; a climactic rise and fall, punctuated by catharsis. A play needn’t be a tragedy to necessitate such structures. Perhaps Maitland is jarred by his journalistic instincts, veering into the realm of witty and engaging reporting, but at the expense of theatrical flow. Thus, in lacking direction, the play also lacked pace, making the 90 minutes – sans interval – drag somewhat.

The work lacked that je ne sais quoi that electrifies theatre into life. It felt more like a loose montage of memories of Maitland’s mother’s outrageous displays of narcissism and abuse, than a constructed account of his mother and their relationship. So perhaps, actually, I do sais quoi, and it is the pressing lack of a coherent narrative.

Whilst both play and staging did feel overly busy at times, the set design (Louie Whitemore) and use of props were accomplished and inventive. I especially enjoyed a birthday cake’s transformation into a steering wheel, and shortly after, an airbag.

Within the small cast, majority were multi-rolling, and excellently so, interspersing humour and subtlety into their every character. Personally and perhaps unfairly, I have a long-held vendetta against child actors, and the inclusion of a child (Brodie Edwards and Howard Webb, alternately) in this play did not help to dispel my prejudice.

Maitland has his own role on stage: he appears as himself in the present day action, addressing the audience, and sometimes his wife. At other times, he just circles the stage, or plops himself down in the audience for long stretches. Whilst his self-effacing commentary on both this choice and his lack of acting ability is amusing – and fascinating on a meta-theatrical level – it undermines the dramatic action, detracting focus from the scene itself.

The play, as one would assume, revolves around Maitland’s mother. And whilst he does point out that he has written ‘a play, not a diagnosis’, his mother dabbles in all sorts of textbook narcissism. The problem with narcissists, though, is that they often straddle charisma and malice simultaneously (PSA: I’m not a psychiatrist). The problem with the portrayal here is that, as effervescent as Emma Davies is, Maitland’s mother is consistently selfish, nasty, and completely objectionable. And with the absence of a narrative arc compelling us to her, it’s hard to develop a strong enough interest in both her and her relationship with her son.

It is the lack of coherence and narrative that lets this play down. Despite this, there are some lovely moments, and some laudable dialogue between Maitland and his wife, largely deliberating on the nature of The Female Middle Age Crisis to Trained Therapist pipeline.

Oedipus did a great job of sparking our collective obsession with mother-son relationships, and Maitland’s new play is an interesting addition. But Oedipus also excelled in its very story, without which there is little appeal. How to Survive your Mother, whilst entertaining, needs this appeal if it is to also be affecting.

HOW TO SURVIVE YOUR MOTHER at the King’s Head Theatre

Reviewed on 28th October 2024

by Violet Howson

Photography by Charles Flint

Previously reviewed at this venue:

TWO COME HOME | ★★★★★ | August 2024

THE PINK LIST | ★★★★ | August 2024

ENG-ER-LAND | ★★★ | July 2024

DIVA: LIVE FROM HELL! | ★★★★ | June 2024

BEATS | ★★★ | April 2024

BREEDING | ★★★★ | March 2024

TURNING THE SCREW | ★★★★ | February 2024

EXHIBITIONISTS | ★★ | January 2024

DIARY OF A GAY DISASTER | ★★★★ | July 2023

THE BLACK CAT | ★★★★★ | March 2023

THE MANNY | ★★★ | January 2023

FAME WHORE | ★★★ | October 2022

HOW TO SURVIVE YOUR MOTHER

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★★★

“Crim’s script is compelling”

23.5 Hours markets itself as a ‘drama about the price of staying together when everything falls apart’. Set in a generic town in North America, 23.5 Hours is an investigation into accusations of sexual misconduct and statutory rape, namely between Tom Hodges (David Sturzaker)– a beloved high school teacher – and his 15-year-old female student. But director, Katharine Farmer – with Carey Crim’s script – skips the tantalising details of the scandal, the trial, and Tom’s two-year prison sentence. Instead, we really begin with Leigh (Lisa Dwan) – Tom’s wife – as she navigates life with Tom after his release, having become a social pariah herself, whilst also trying to protect her teenage son, Nicholas (Jem Matthews).

Any show that welcomes audiences in with the music of Nick Cave practically guarantees a philosophical workout, and 23.5 Hours delivers. It’s a deft investigation into trust and love set against the backdrop of unending online vitriol and constant scrutiny.

But the play opens shakily: Leigh and Tom return with best friends and couple, Jayne (an excellent Allyson Ava-Brown) and Bruce (Jonathan Nyati). They’re jovially swigging wine, teasing and silly, having returned from watching Tom’s indulgent two hour and forty eight minute high school production of Romeo and Juliet. Such joviality dichotomises the emotional apocalypse that lies in wait, but it’s a messy joviality, somewhat saccharine, not helped by the mess of American accents, which range from passable to not passable.

Once the drama kicks off however, its non-stop turbulence is endlessly engaging. Crim’s script is compelling, situating itself within the fallout of the Me Too movement, but hyperaware of this. In 23.5 Hours, nobody has moral superiority; everyone is self-righteous and reprehensible, yet never villainous. It delicately straddles the tightrope of judgement: as soon as you think you’ve digested the situation, you’ll be ushered elsewhere. And at some point in the show, you will sympathise with every character. Dealing with material this fraught, that is a real achievement. The show scrutinises the grey bits in-between the ethical absolutes that ordinarily dominate: it is beautifully nuanced, and occasionally very funny.

The stage design (Carla Goodman) complements the piece and Leigh’s psyche excellently. All the action takes place in Leigh’s house, to great effect. This static quality reflects her internal implacability: her denial that she could be in any way shaken in her love for Tom by mistrust, despite growing evidence against him. But as Leigh’s trust and self-belief fragments, so too does her house. Nick Cave also pops up again in the room décor, which I appreciated.

Another shoutout goes to wine, which trails behind almost every character: a skilfully subtle observation of multi-generational addiction and hypocrisy.

The show is perhaps a little too shouty: it would’ve benefitted from fewer screaming matches – which would also have shaved a necessary half hour off. It’s difficult to sustain such high stakes, but the cast are all strong, and Dwan carries its weightiness with aplomb.

One enduring ontological knot, however, is the plausibility of the enduring love between Tom and Leigh. Tom’s character has few redeeming features – despite his obvious intelligence – and it is hard to understand his appeal, or Leigh’s determination to stick by him (certain plot points complicate and elucidate this, but it does remain a concern). Fewer emotional climaxes would’ve made room for threat and tension, allowing the insidious seeds of doubt to fester more.

23.5 Hours is not perfect, but it’s truly a gripping show, which cannot but hook you in. And the cliffhanger will give you plenty to talk about on the tube home.

HOW TO SURVIVE YOUR MOTHER at the King’s Head Theatre

★★★

“there are some lovely moments, and some laudable dialogue between Maitland and his wife”

HOW TO SURVIVE YOUR MOTHER at the King’s Head Theatre