★★★★

“Max Harrison’s staging is beautifully faithful and sympathetic to the writing.”

Memories contain errors. Memory is highly malleable; therefore, often unreliable. It can be altered by emotional state from the very second it becomes a memory. Or many years later. Yet most of us like to think our own recollections are infallible, even when we know we might be twisting it. That’s just survival, according to Philip Ridley who explores these themes in his 2007 play “Leaves of Glass”. The middle episode of his ‘Brothers Trilogy’, it was preceded by ‘Mercury Fur’ and followed by ‘Piranha Heights’.

“Leaves of Glass” centres around two brothers, Steven (Ned Costello) and Barry (Joseph Potter). Five years apart in age, but on the surface, they couldn’t be further apart from each other. Steven runs a successful graffiti removal business while Barry, despite being a bit of a dogsbody in the firm, is a struggling artist. Steven appears to have his head screwed on, whereas Barry’s is lost in drink and hallucinations. Their respective memories of their father, whom they lost at a young age, are on different tracks. Yet there are similarities that bond them. But like similar poles of a magnet, they repel each other. Their mother Liz (Kacey Ainsworth) tentatively holds them together, despite her affections wavering between the two as wildly as her own recollections. The only solid presence is Steven’s pregnant wife Debbie (Katie Eldred) who is aware of the fragility of the family, but her tolerance doesn’t stretch to assuring nothing gets broken.

The intensity of the play comes not just from the spoken word, but the silence that surrounds a traumatic incident from the brothers’ childhood that neither seems willing to talk about. When the silence snaps, the effect is shocking. The pieces come together but nothing fits, as the final battle of memories is like a duel to the death.

“Sam Glossop’s underscore splits the play’s segments like splinters of sound that throw us off balance”

The intensity of the play also undoubtedly comes from the performances. Costello and Potter both capture the inherent danger in Ridley’s script and in their characters. Costello in particular, like a brooding prisoner who never leaves the stage. Neither can escape their version of the truth – a truth that we can only keep guessing about. Eldred’s Debbie, the outsider, is more grounded but not quite strong enough to dodge the fallout from the brothers’ mind games. Ainsworth is a mix of concern and complicity as the mother who inflates her own ability to cope. ‘I’ve buried two parents and a husband’ she continually reminds us, ‘I think I’m capable of carrying some tea and biscuits’. The little hints of domesticity are a thin gauze over the deep cracks that run through this family.

Ridley’s signature is splashed all over the piece, although less shocking, and perhaps more thoughtful, than some of his other work. Max Harrison’s staging is beautifully faithful and sympathetic to the writing. Some scenes are short, like pieces of broken glass. Other scenes start when they are already up and running. They end unresolved. It is discomforting and reflects the unravelling of the minds of these four protagonists. The actors come into the scenes from different angles – as jagged as the eponymous leaves of glass. Alex Lewer’s lighting is just as evocative, swinging from harshness to near darkness like a horror film’s bare light bulb; while Sam Glossop’s underscore splits the play’s segments like splinters of sound that throw us off balance.

It is difficult to tell the difference between a lie and a truth misremembered. This family is built on both – a pretty unstable foundation to begin with. It is not always easy viewing to witness, but the craftmanship of the acting and the writing force us not to look away. Memory may be fragile, but “Leaves of Glass” will be difficult to forget.

UNION at the Arcola Theatre

★★★

“amongst the yelling and huffing, there are a lot of poignant and heartfelt moments in Union”

Given the state liberal politics is currently in, it’s understandable there would be a sense of panicked urgency in trying to get an important message across; the time for nuance is over, the time for yelling is now. But didactic theatre, which this ends up being, isn’t super fun for a few reasons: Firstly, no-one likes being yelled at for 90 minutes. Sure, art isn’t always pleasant, but it is supposed to be affective, and after a while this starts to feel less like theatre and more like a public service announcement.

Secondly, if you’ve got a leftist agenda, sermonising to an off-west end theatre audience is likely preaching to the choir. I can’t imagine many passionate capitalists are signing up to see a play about a big-time property developer having a moral crisis. That being said, amongst the yelling and huffing, there are a lot of poignant and heartfelt moments in Union.

Saskia is at the peak of her career. She’s about to sign her biggest development deal which will potentially lead to partnership. But in a moment of insanity- or clarity- she flees the meeting before signing, changes into her very expensive Lycra gear and decides to run the many miles home through London, meeting a plethora of colourful characters along the way, each with a little lesson to impart.

Writer Max Wilkinson’s 2021 play Rainer feels very much like the seed for Union: One main character flies through London, clearly having a breakdown and meeting all sorts on her journey. But where Rainer was focused on a singular experience of personal trauma, Union uses Saskia’s meltdown to convey a much bigger issue: the capitalist sterilisation of big cities. This feels like a more interesting use of the trope, and the script itself feels more sophisticated.

Director Wiebke Green’s recent credits include Philip Ridley’s Poltergeist, The Beast Will Rise, and Tarantula. There’s a definite link between Union and old hand Ridley’s works, but it’s hard to know how much comes from the writing and how much the production. Union has the same non-stop intensity, the same amped up spiralling and the same inevitable ‘big reveal’ when the audience learns a crucial piece of information that explains the aforementioned spiralling, all of which have become Ridley’s trademarks. It’s affecting, sure, but it’s also a bit formulaic now. And just as I found it hard to focus during Ridley’s 85-minute rant Poltergeist last year, I find Union too consistently high-strung to remain interested.

Maintaining this level of high-energy performance, though, is undoubtedly impressive. Dominique Tipper as Saskia never lets up, pounding the stage and virtually spitting out her dialogue throughout. She’s convincing as both the cutthroat corporatist and the wavering moralist. When she leaps back into her teenage past she avoids that often cloying, babyish performance so many people give, and instead presents young Saskia as fully formed if still malleable and vulnerable to sinister forces.

As it happens, set and costume designer Kit Hinchcliffe also worked on Ridley’s Poltergeist, but where there was only one character to dress, and no costume changes, in this production she’s had a little more opportunity to stretch herself. All costume changes happen in full view, with the help of two very full clothing racks. This keeps all the energy on stage, rather than any hurried exits and entries. And given you couldn’t very well design the whole of Regent’s Canal, Hinchcliffe has opted for a near empty stage, and the visible unworn costumes give a little colour to the production.

While this might easily have been a one-person play, with Tipper merely jumping between characters, we have the added pleasure of Sorcha Kennedy and Andre Bullock playing all the bit parts as well as giving live sound effects such as panicked heavy breathing and crying babies. For the most part, this works really well, giving an extra dimension to an otherwise singular voice, and also creating the impression that Saskia is being watched- not just by an audience of 100, but by judging parties in her own world.

Both Kennedy and Bullock are excellent chameleons, using quick costume changes to transform into any number of people. The only time it doesn’t quite fit is with Saskia’s husband Leon. Where every other character is enjoyably cartoonish in comparison to the multi-faceted Saskia, Leon should really be slightly more detailed in order for their complicated alliance to make sense, and this just isn’t possible when Kennedy is switching characters in 30 seconds with the mere addition of a hat and glasses.

The aggressive development of London, or as one character says, the turning of the world in to “one big f*cking Pret” is a real and scary issue. Wilkinson has, in a lot of ways, hit the nail on the head. It’s just that he’s hit it a little too hard.

LEAVES OF GLASS at the Park Theatre

★★★★

“Max Harrison’s staging is beautifully faithful and sympathetic to the writing.”

“Sam Glossop’s underscore splits the play’s segments like splinters of sound that throw us off balance”

LEAVES OF GLASS at the Park Theatre

Reviewed on 25th January 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Mark Senior

Previously reviewed at this venue:

LEAVES OF GLASS

LEAVES OF GLASS

UNION at the Arcola Theatre

★★★

“amongst the yelling and huffing, there are a lot of poignant and heartfelt moments in Union”

UNION at the Arcola Theatre

Reviewed on 25th July 2023

by Miriam Sallon

Photography by Lidia Crisafulli

Previously reviewed at this venue:

Union

Union