HEAD-ROT HOLIDAY at The Hope Theatre

★★★★

“a terrifically performed and well written play”

At a time when many theatregoers are looking to make their annual Christmas pantomime visit, it is interesting to see a show set over the festive period that addresses the subject of mental health in secure ‘special hospitals’ and examines the people who probably should never have been sent there.

Head-rot Holiday is a challenging, yet entertaining black comedy that gives an insight behind the closed doors of a secure institution. Whilst in the main shocking and heartbreaking, the performance shows that sometimes in tragedy there can also be humour. It was written in the early 1990s by Sarah Daniels to highlight injustices in the way that women were incarcerated in places such as Broadmoor Hospital and subsequently how they were often poorly treated. Her research for the play found that daily life was often monotonous and demeaning, women patients were often subjected to sexualised behaviour with many too intimidated to complain.

Bringing this research to life would mean so much material to cover so we see only a snapshot. Featuring three exceptionally competent female actors telling the story of three nurses, three patients and three further characters who have had a significant impact on their lives as well as they have on them. Set in a fictional version of a Broadmoor style hospital we learn about each character through monologues and set pieces in a fast moving, engaging storyline that shows whether you are patient or carer, just how easily life can sometimes take you the wrong way.

As the audience filters into the theatre we see what we later learn are two patients and a nurse. The characters speak with individual audience members which was initially quite disarming. Should we interact or merely watch? The three actors switch into each of their three character roles with ease and are convincing as they portray three very different people. Emily Tucker was worth the price of the admission alone particularly in the manner she played the damaged Ruth and senior nurse Barbara who is in an abusive home relationship. Amy McAllister performs as Dee, Jackie and Chris whilst the parts of Claudia, Sharon and Angel are played by Evlyne Oyedokun.

Will Maynard’s precise direction means each of the scenes moves smoothly and effectively. The simple grey set (Chanto Silva) makes the audience feel that they are literally in a prison. Lighting (Chris McDonnell) is effective particularly with the monologues. The sound (Keri Chesser) appropriately supported and enhanced the atmosphere.

Head-rot Holiday is a terrifically performed and well written play, though it could be argued that some more could have been learned about the main characters and less about the disco the women were expected to attend. Anyone with an interest in mental health or the terrible injustices that went on for decades in special hospitals should beat a path to the Hope Theatre.

Reviewed by Steve Sparrow

Reviewed – 29th November 2018

Photography by Mark Overall

Head-rot Holiday

Hope Theatre until 22nd December

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:

Cream Tea & Incest | ★★★★ | April 2018

Worth a Flutter | ★★ | May 2018

Fat Jewels | ★★★★★ | July 2018

The Dog / The Cat | ★★★★★ | September 2018

The Lesson | ★★★★ | September 2018

Jericho’s Rose | ★★★½ | October 2018

Gilded Butterflies | ★★ | November 2018

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★★

“there was simply not enough here to lift the piece into the realms of truly powerful drama”

Gilded Butterflies is a two-hander, which takes as its focus the plight of a woman prisoner in the US. Inspired by the experience of a Death Row survivor, it aims, as the programme notes explain, ‘to explore what it means to keep an individual’s soul alive in extremely challenging conditions’. The play’s central character – Maggie – is child-like and obviously mentally fragile, and the nature of her crime is such that we are clearly being asked to think about the question of justice for the mentally ill trapped in the American penal system, as well as the taboos surrounding motherhood, and post-natal depression in particular.

The set is stark, consisting of two cell beds, and an occasional grouping of a couple of chairs, and Naomi Baldwin’s sound and lighting design is minimal throughout. Scene changes are signalled by a burst of static white noise, and we occasionally hear (less successfully) the tramp of the prison guards’ feet as they patrol the corridors. The sparsity of the mise-en-scène shines the spotlight on both actors and script, and, despite some excellent work from Francesca McCrohon as Maggie, there was simply not enough here to lift the piece into the realms of truly powerful drama.

Samantha Pain plays three different characters during the course of the piece – a fellow inmate, Maggie’s lawyer, and Maggie’s sister – but, aside from the fact that each woman wears a different jacket, there is no differentiation between these three individuals, either in vocal quality or physicality. Indeed, the physicality felt very under-developed throughout, and it would be interesting to see how much this piece of theatre could grow with the help of a good movement director in the devising process. As it is, it is unclear why Tormented Casserole (the company) have chosen theatre as the medium for this story, when there is so little theatricality in its realisation; it often feels simply like a radio play on its feet.

There are issues with the script too. Aside from a brief moment of vocal frenzy and overlap about half way through the piece, there is precious little pace, tonal or structural variation. There are also moments when the language strays away from the American idiom – no-one in the States would refer to a movie as a film, for example – and these little inconsistencies unfortunately do nothing to help immerse us in this world.

Tormented Casserole have made a serious attempt to tackle some important issues here, but, ultimately, Gilded Butterflies needs an injection of theatre to make it worthy of its stage.

Reviewed by Rebecca Crankshaw

Photography by Rebecca Rayne