George Washbourn
It is often said that the best writing comes from one’s own life experiences. Whilst to follow this maxim seems frightfully limiting and, in my case, would almost certainly churn out some unforgivably dull material, it works wholeheartedly in the favour of Paddy Campbell’s hard hitting play, Wet House. Opening at the Soho Theatre for its third run, Campbell’s debut piece is a comedic but often painful and harrowing depiction of life in a homeless shelter, based on Campbell’s own work experiences.
Wet House sees Andy, a fresh faced art history graduate, start his job in a wet house, a homeless shelter for alcoholics in which they are allowed to drink on site and satiate their habits. It seems to be an abjectly bleak environment, awash with drug addicts, drunks and paedophiles, an apparently apt reflection of the real nature of wet houses in the UK. Thrust into the throng of a jaded bunch of co-workers, namely Mike, a stiflingly macho ex-squaddie, and Helen, a lonely middle aged woman clinging onto her ever waning idealistic perspective on things, Andy and the audience are made privy to the myriad of malpractices in the care industry.
The play trundles quite happily along in its opening scenes, seeming to establish a darkly comedic air as it cracks wise about drug dependency, death and the countless other afflictions the wet house’s residents harbour. This perverse sense of pantomime is then emphatically quashed with a palpable turn of pathos and frosty drama. The tragedy of the residents shines poignantly through the play showing the humanity of their situation, which in many ways is its crowning glory. Campbell successfully breaks down the sense of detachment and distancing we have (and in many ways perpetuate) with the homeless. No longer are they simply alcoholics without a home, but rather people with a story.
The wet house depicted in the play exists very much in a vacuum, separate from the external world. The focus never goes beyond the clinically white walls of the hostel, meaning that all that takes place within them is left unknown to the outside. As such, a place established to care for the weak and weary has fallen into complete disorder. Both the inhabitants and the staff are perpetually drunk and the disassociation with society at large allows the staff to continually abuse the residents. Given Campbell’s own experience with wet houses, the satirical potential of these scenes is essentially made redundant, displaying what we can only assume to be an authentic portrayal of institutions with an immediate pastoral responsibility. It is a grim reality that the play shows powerfully and unflinchingly.
The play’s runaway centrepiece is its performances, which are, in short, flawless. Joe Caffrey’s capacity for physical performance as Dinger, a veteran resident with an uncontrollable drink problem and heart-wrenching back-story, is sublime. Chris Connel as Mike, an entirely repugnant and manipulative social worker, is delivered with such clout you feel your stomach drop each time he swaggers on stage; so authentically dangerous is his performance. Eva Quinn as Kerry, the youngest resident, embodies the anguish of her character convincingly and continues to impress throughout. It is an impressive array of performances from all members of the six-person cast.
Wet House is a totally absorbing theatrical experience. It is a powerful play that capably juggles comedy and tragedy in a totally cohesive fashion, even within the same scene. It demands to be seen.
Wet House is playing at Soho Theatre until 16 November. For more information and tickets, see the Soho Theatre website.