★★★★★
As we packed into the demonstration room, which is as snug as a RyanAir flight, you’d be forgiven for thinking we were taking part in an immersive theatre experience. As the sounds of the pilot radioing echoed our descent, we were also seeing Marnie’s descent – that of shouting abuse at her kid on a cramped plane – and how her life consequently fell apart.
Anna Morris gives a commanding performance as Marnie, a permanently stressed mum, who is as relatable as she is flawed.
Morris inhabits every character with poise and knowing characterisations. Her writing is as insightful as her acting. Marnie’s annoying husband, the bohemian landlady of her youth, her brother and many others are as vivid as Marnie herself. Madelaine Moore’s direction is taut, the set spartan. With great lighting design from Megan Lucas and sound by Ellie Isherwood that adds a sense of isolation and claustrophobia to Marnie’s world.
On the surface, the narrative feels much like an anecdote from Jon Ronson’s So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed, the study into the way we become a hateful online mob towards anyone’s mistakes. Yet there are deeper themes at work; that of a mother not wanting her child, a controversial topic, but deftly explored.
I was in a state of tension around the way her toddler Chris was described, I was worried we’d get the usual dénouement of ‘oh he’s autistic and that’s why he’s so terrible to live with’, the autism mum trope, that’s perhaps one of the most ableist we see on stage. But that never comes. In fact, I feel Morris is alluding to Marnie’s own undiagnosed neurodivergence. Her sensory overwhelm, the feeling she needed others to define and guide her, in a lost and confusing world. It’s that reversal that’s refreshing to see, and far more authentic.
