Tag Archives: Naomi Dawson

PERSONAL VALUES

★★★

Hampstead Theatre

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

 

 


 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

APEX PREDATOR | ★★ | March 2025
THE HABITS | ★★★★★ | March 2025
EAST IS SOUTH | ★★★ | February 2025
AN INTERROGATION | ★★★★ | January 2025
KING JAMES | ★★★★ | November 2024
VISIT FROM AN UNKNOWN WOMAN | ★★ | July 2024
THE DIVINE MRS S | ★★★★ | March 2024
DOUBLE FEATURE | ★★★★ | February 2024
ROCK ‘N’ ROLL | ★★★★ | December 2023
ANTHROPOLOGY | ★★★★ | September 2023

 

PERSONAL VALUES

PERSONAL VALUES

PERSONAL VALUES

The Breach

The Breach

★★★

Hampstead Theatre

The Breach

Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed – 12th May 2022

★★★

 

“The performances are uniformly magnificent: honest and brutal. Yet it stops just short of drawing us in emotionally”

 

Towards the end of Naomi Wallace’s “The Breach”, the joint protagonist, Jude, is imagining a version of the past that didn’t happen, but could have. It takes a while to get there but the scene encapsulates both the power and impotence of hindsight. The characters wrestle with regret, bereavement and guilt, but more so with the question of whether that could have been avoided had they acted differently.

The play jumps between 1977 and 1991, initially as two very different worlds but gradually they overlap and the two separate decades bear witness to each other. Set against a completely bare stage there is little to differentiate the two ages. Different actors play the younger and older versions of the characters. Between the scenes a stark line of white light sweeps the stage, brushing them away like skittles to replace them with their counterparts.

We begin in the seventies, in small town America, a time of restlessness, turbulence, political scandal and a questioning of traditional authority (there are extensive, weighty articles in the programme notes depicting the profound effects on the American youth of the Vietnam War and ‘Neoliberalism’ – although not touched upon at all in the script). Seventeen-year-old Jude (Shannon Tarbet) has taken it upon herself to protect her younger brother Acton (Stanley Morgan). They spend their days in the basement of their modest home creating their own world. Frayne (Charlie Beck) and Hoke (Alfie Jones) gate-crash this world – not so much friends of Acton but emotional racketeers. Conditions are laid and sacrifices must be made. Inevitably the bond between brother and sister is snapped in two. In hindsight, the love they shared that could have prevented this is the exact same love that caused it.

So, you cannot escape the actions of the past then. But can you learn from them? Tellingly there is no casting for the older Acton, but Jude (Jasmine Blackborow), Frayne (Douggie McMeekin) and Hoke (Tom Lewis) reconvene fourteen years later. As each snapshot of 1991 plays out onstage, more is revealed of the dangerous games the teenagers played, focusing on many issues – most notably sexual consent. A lot is said today about how it was a ‘different time’, back then. But accountability (rightly or wrongly) has no limits. As these thirty-somethings examine their past, one wonders who the victims and who the culprits are. And are the intervening years of guilt and atonement enough or should further punishment be executed? This play, while never giving us a succinct answer, suggests we punish ourselves enough. There are no winners.

Sarah Frankcom’s sharp and efficient direction matches Wallace’s writing which is as penetrative as ever. The performances are uniformly magnificent: honest and brutal. Yet it stops just short of drawing us in emotionally. We don’t quite see the fragility, fear and loneliness that lies beneath the rough exterior. Which is a shame, and a surprise. Based partially on past experience, it seems that Wallace has poured a lot of her own heart into the writing; but ultimately it appeals more to the intellect than to our hearts.

 

 

Reviewed by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Johan Persson

 


The Breach

Hampstead Theatre until 4th June

 

Recently reviewed at this venue:
Night Mother | ★★★★ | October 2021
The Forest | ★★★ | February 2022
The Fever Syndrome | ★★★ | April 2022

 

Click here to see our most recent reviews