Hannah Tookey
Baby farming and the ill treatment of young children is certainly a topical issue, as director Jonathan Rigby rightly comments in the programme. Since the tragedy of Baby P, the media has been filled with reports of further tragic instances of abuse, often occurring right under the noses of the very people responsible for that child’s protection. Sylvia Rayman’s stark 1950’s drama takes a look at the aforementioned issues, as well as the then-stigmatised practice of single motherhood, intimately focusing on the lives of nine young mothers struggling to get by on little-to-no money.
Rigby’s production delves right into the heart of the tiny home that these women share, where many of them sleep on cramped beds in the living room and are awoken painfully early each morning with the noise of daily tasks, all the while living under the watchful eye of the callous and sadistic landlady Helen Allistair. The strained and tense lives of these women are captured superbly by a strong cast of clearly defined characters; the distinct traits of each one are highlighted and defined to provide contrast, whilst each actor maintains a sense of vulnerability that ties them all together as outcasts in a society that frowns upon motherhood out of wedlock.
Sally Mortemore shines as the steely Helen. Her cold and hardened tone is deeply affecting, evoking something of a Cruella de Vil persona, merciless and entirely lacking in concern for the welfare of the young women or small children she has offered a bed to. Mortemore maintains a high level of tension throughout the performance: her steps across the stage are slow and calculated, and as piercing as her strong jaw and focused eyes. Her mere presence on stage creates a disconcerting atmosphere that echoes throughout the small White Bear Theatre.
The design by Olivia Knight aptly reflects the claustrophobic atmosphere of oppression that the women in the house feel: one of the beds lies just in front of the audience’s feet, and scenes are played out right up to this boundary. Rigby’s staging complements this, with the end of Act One building to a moving climax as Vivianne (played by Claire Louise Amias) pulls focus with an emotional outpouring, standing still downstage – within touching distance of the front row. Vanessa Russell (Jess) also deserves a mention, bringing humour through her brazen comments, and Amy Comper’s naive portrayal of Veronica brings light relief with her clipped and whiny tone.
At times Rayman’s writing is slow to build and the last twenty minutes in particular feel like a stretch too far for a plot that could have been cleanly concluded earlier. A few too many pauses mean that some scenes lag a little, but it is the combination of strong actors that drives the plot forward.
Women of Twilight is playing at the White Bear Theatre until 26 January. For more information and tickets, see the White Bear Theatre website.