Simon Longman’s Sparks is a play of two halves. Ish. Kind of. One half, the first, is marginally longer than the second, though seems even longer than that, as it is action free for the most part. The event occurs at the very opening of the play. An estranged big sister Jess (Sally Hodgekiss) turns up on the doorstep of her younger sister Sarah (Sophie Steer), cradling a goldfish (in a bowl, not flapping wildly in her palms), after twelve years of absence.

Within the first five minutes we learn that Jess is anxious, not situationally anxious, but psychologically and detrimentally anxious. We also learn that Jess is a runaway, who has drifted the breadth of the Midlands from coast to coast, perpetually trapped within her own behaviour. Additionally, we learn that Jess left her invalid mother in the care of her younger sister. All of those things are learned in two-second bursts but are padded by Jess, and I quote, “talking shite”. It is a device that is clever in a fair few ways: it undeniably shows her mental instability, it provides a contrast to her younger sister’s isolated calmness and suggests that Jess is hiding something. People always talk too much and overcompensate with complete tosh when they’re lying. So, the only problem, really, with having Jess talk uninterrupted “shite” for fifty minutes is, well, that it’s shite. Now, that is not a slant on the writing as a whole, which is great but heavy handed. Fifteen minutes of drivel would have been sufficient enough to cover it all, let alone fifty. By the end of fifty, I need to down a mug of chamomile in case I should accidentally implore Jess to get a grip and kindly shut up.

The second half, well now –  the second half is a different ball game all together. It is pacey, throat-stoppingly shocking and therefore hard to swallow, in domestic directions that you just can’t see coming. It made me squish my face, hide my eyes and wish to high heaven that it didn’t all seem so real. I can’t stress enough that the second half is brilliant. The first half is set-up, much needed, but too much. Structurally, it needn’t be a play of two halves at all, the whole thing could be succinctly and powerfully compressed into an hour and left the moaning segments in the junk file. The form hasn’t got the shoulders to support it.

Much like the contrast between the two halves, the sisters are very, very different and played as such. Hodgekiss’ anxiety is incessant, but wholly believable. Steer’s quietness gives way to her impeccable comic timing. A slightly jarring contrast between the actors is that they’re both supposed to be from the Midlands and Steer is very definitely not. I know I’m doing the pedantic thing again, but the entire play, every inch of it is about two things; their being sisters and the midriff, drifting, inescapable strip that is the Midlands. It doesn’t make sense and it would be so easily resolved. Apparently, though, the actors switch roles for each performance. Intriguing. Don’t ask me why: I Don’t know why. Actually, why? Nevertheless, I’d be interested to go back and see it with the roles reversed, but only the second half.

Sparks is playing Old Red Lion Theatre until 5 December For more information and tickets, see the Old Red Lion Theatre website.