PERSONAL VALUES

Hampstead Theatre

★★★

“an unflinching depiction of grief, suffering, and how family can infect”

Personal Values, a new play written by Chloë Lawrence-Taylor and directed by Lucy Morrison, is an unapologetic depiction of grief and isolation through the lens of two estranged sisters.

Firstly, the set design (Naomi Dawson) is fantastic. The clutter and physical chaos of a house that is so rammed with chachka it has begun to retaliate, is arresting. It’s the palpable manifestation of the grief and self-flagellation central to the emotional nucleus of the piece. And it’s deliberately distracting. For both the characters and the audience, the imposing beast that is hoarding looms throughout, its own character, pulling at everyone. It makes for bleak show. But that is the point, so it’s effective.

Two sisters, now in middle age, are reunited – in a conspicuously constrained space– they bicker and blame and mourn. As confessions unfurl, some of the ice inevitably thaws, and the idiosyncrasies and entanglements of sister relationships are depicted with success. Much of the plot is reliant on reveals, so I shall remain vague, but Bea is entrenched in a life-long Hoarding Disorder, thus imprisoning herself in the family home; Veda, on the other hand, ostensibly escaped, but is suffering her own form of incarceration. Much of the piece is naturalistic, with quick two-handed dialogue. In the middle, it tips into a more abstract angle, which is slightly confusing, but ultimately good for the stakes and the drama. Rosie Cavaliero as Bea and Holly Atkins as Veda are both equally excellent, natural but deeply feeling. The script itself was perhaps a little inhibiting for the actors, its dialogue slightly on the generic side.

The piece has two distinct parts, even without an interval. The first was perhaps the more effective: with its focus on sisters, their estrangement and tensions, matched by years of memories and behavioural patterns, it’s a compelling watch. The second half is slightly flatter, exploring the relationship between Bea and her nephew, Ash (Archie Christoph-Allen), as their suffering mounts. Thus, its ending note of hope felt slightly implausible.

Lighting (Holly Ellis) and sound (Max Pappenheim) were also commendable here: flickering lamps lent an eerie, appropriately ghostly quality, whilst an overhead lit square effectively mirrored the prisons these women have made for themselves. A claustrophobic patter of rain underscores much of the piece: it lends an oppressive quality to the dialogue which is palpable.

Personal Values is an unflinching depiction of grief, suffering, and how family can infect. It doesn’t feel quite like a finished product yet, but it certainly explores the quiet tragedy of Hoarding Disorders with subtle grace. The central twist pierces the piece with a further nuance that forces you to reconsider what you just watched, underscoring the naturalism with a darker, more abstract exploration of the spectres of family and mourning.

PERSONAL VALUES

Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed on 22nd April 2025

by Violet Howson

Photography by Helen Murray

PERSONAL VALUES

Tender Napalm

King’s Head Theatre

Reviewed – 28th October 2021

★★★★★

“it somehow speaks of the horror and confusion of trauma, unflinching love in the face of howling pain, and above all, it’s incredibly playful and funny and sweet”

Having read his books as a kid and studied his plays in college, seeing a Philip Ridley play at a pub theatre in Angel seems absolutely mad to me. Like having Michelle Roux working at your local caf, or Radiohead doing a gig in your neighbour’s basement. That said, the Kings Head is no ordinary pub theatre, and Philip Ridley no ordinary playwright.

And, stubbornly transgressive as he is, it seems entirely apt that in Ridley’s latest production, at moments of palpable, almost violent silence, you can hear a faint R n’ B playlist, glasses clinking and raised voices trickling in from the bar behind.

The design (Kit Hinchcliffe) is tantalisingly bare: a shiny white floor and plain white backdrop, along with costumes of white tops and grey trousers. No furniture or small props or even a button on a cardi to fiddle with. Just two characters, Man and Woman, and their rich, almost impenetrable fantasy existence.

I feel myself putting off talking about the actual play itself because I don’t really know how to describe it. At once a game of ‘Fantasy Yes’- we’ve been shipwrecked, says man. Yes, with only hundreds of monkeys for company, says woman. Yes, except that time a giant serpent came and ate me whole and I stabbed it to death from the insides, says man. Yes, says woman, that was my great, great aunt, and I too have serpent blood in me. Yes, well, says man, I’ve led aliens into battle against their enemies, and so the monkeys think I am the messiah. And so on. This, spliced with intensely sexual but equally opaque talk of lubricated grenades and castrating garden sheers, and a surprisingly normal story about an eighteenth birthday party, makes up this seventy-minute straight-through. Despite this sounding unbearably inaccessible, through its opacity, it somehow speaks of the horror and confusion of trauma, unflinching love in the face of howling pain, and above all, it’s incredibly playful and funny and sweet.

In his programme notes, director Max Marrion talks about how skilled our two principals, Adeline Waby and Jaz Hutchins, are at dealing with Ridley’s particular flavour of language, story and imagery. This is mildly put considering their ability to express both humour and passion in this otherwise abstruse text. They embody both the poetic and the realistic; unafraid to be ridiculous, fighting with invisible swords, jumping from one invisible rock to the next, giving each other explosive orgasms with grenades. Equally, they’re two awkward teenagers getting ready for a party, nervously flirting and dancing like idiots. Their chemistry is complicated; it feels full of experience and genuine intimacy.

Ben Lerner once said of John Ashbery’s poetry that while reading, “they always felt as if they were making sense, but when you looked up from the page, it was impossible to say what sense has been made.” I’d say the same of Tender Napalm. There’s no way for me to convey its message, except to tell you to see it and try to explain it yourself.

PERSONAL VALUES

Hampstead Theatre

★★★

“an unflinching depiction of grief, suffering, and how family can infect”

PERSONAL VALUES

Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed on 22nd April 2025

by Violet Howson

Photography by Helen Murray

Previously reviewed at this venue:

PERSONAL VALUES

PERSONAL VALUES

PERSONAL VALUES

King’s Head Theatre

Reviewed – 28th October 2021

★★★★★

“it somehow speaks of the horror and confusion of trauma, unflinching love in the face of howling pain, and above all, it’s incredibly playful and funny and sweet”

And, stubbornly transgressive as he is, it seems entirely apt that in Ridley’s latest production, at moments of palpable, almost violent silence, you can hear a faint R n’ B playlist, glasses clinking and raised voices trickling in from the bar behind.

Reviewed by Miriam Sallon

Photography by Mark Senior

Tender Napalm

King’s Head Theatre until 20th November

Other shows reviewed this year by Miriam:

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