Many a story finishes with a wedding. Chris Bush’s epic, moving new play starts with one — a joyous affair between Jo and Harry, who everyone agrees were made for each other. But inside that union lie huge wells of uncertainty. Jo is troubled by the expectations of her as a woman — particularly to have a child. More fundamentally, Harry wants to transition into the woman she feels she has always been. What follows is a richly compassionate and thoughtful exploration of love, of what being a woman means and of the fascinating and strange nature of our bodies.
It’s an extremely topical and often contentious subject. But Bush describes the theatre as “a machine for empathy” and that is absolutely the driving principle for this show. Though not autobiographical, it draws on her own experience of transitioning. It’s also alert and sympathetic to the complex emotions of everyone involved. And this isn’t a play about an issue: it’s about lived experience.
So we see how hard it is for Harry, a mild-mannered marine biologist, simply to conduct her life. Her boss, being “helpful”, sidelines her on public-facing engagements and suggests she uses the toilet in a different facility. Her mother, though supportive, can’t understand why Harry can’t just use her old passport to travel to a big family wedding and advises wearing an old suit to avoid being “a distraction”. But equally, we see the struggle for her mother to comprehend fully this change in her child.
Jo, meanwhile, has her own restless relationship with her body and her life. When the two split, she talks of becoming “unplugged” and heads off on the Inca Trail. So when her new partner, Gabby, with whom she falls passionately in love, pressurises her to have a baby, she feels torn. They are surrounded by a chorus of women who double up as narrators and multiple characters, and deliver Jennifer Whyte’s dreamy, soulful songs that punctuate the action.
The second half of the play takes a wild swing into fantasy: Harry’s experience fuses with a story about a mermaid trying to adapt to land in a historical England while Jo’s pregnancy is depicted in a futuristic tale about a cyborg mother. It’s a risky shift into allegory, but it largely pays off, finding a pungent theatrical language to express the two characters’ disorientation as their bodies change, and their contrasting but profound sense of alienation.
It doesn’t all work. Sometimes characters feel schematic, their dialogue too clearly designed to expand the discussion. But it’s carried with care and warmth by a fine ensemble in Ann Yee’s fluid staging. Amanda Wilkin is great as the effervescent Gabby, as is Jackie Clune as Harry’s hand-wringing mother. At the centre, Jade Anouka as Jo and Fizz Sinclair as Harry are superb, Anouka’s firecracker energy and impulsiveness contrasting with Sinclair’s gentle, reflective dignity. And, at base, this beautiful, humane play is about feeling like an outsider, whoever you are, and yearning for acceptance.
★★★★☆
To March 15, almeida.co.uk
