“Woman in the Mind” Review – Play Stands the Test of Time for Its Authenticity | stage

SOssan is not the first woman to battle inner demons in midlife that Sheridan Smith has taken on on the West End stage. Before Alan Ayckbourn’s hapless housewife here, there was Shirley Valentine, navigating the vacillations of midlife by sailing to the island of her dreams, and John Cassavetes’ “Myrtle” on “opening night,” the more fragile and drunken in the malaise of middle age.

Susan, like Shirley and Myrtle, is in a mentally fragile state. This was partly because she had been hit on the head with a garden shovel, Which led to the creation of an alternate hallucinatory world. This seems, at first, like a refuge from the real, emotionally dead life she lives with her priest husband, Gerald (Tim McMullan), her sister-in-law, Muriel (Louise Brealey), and his rebellious son, Rick (Taylor Utley), who has refused to speak to his parents since joining a sect in Hemel Hempstead.

Although this play premiered in 1985, Susan is in many ways a tied-up 1950s housewife, albeit drawn in a darkly comedic manner. Smith plays the role with uncanny subtlety and subtlety, casting glances that are hurtful or insulting. It feels vulnerable, especially in the first act, but the emotional connection wanes as the drama becomes more intense and surreal. Smith remains understated, which is perhaps wise given that the tone leans toward melodrama and supernatural farce.

Susan’s fantasy world presents a picture of an ideal family, from the sexually thirsty husband, Andy (Solly Raimi), to the adoring daughter, Lucy (Safiya Oakley-Green), and brother, Tony (Chris Jenks). Or so it seems at first. Under the direction of Michael Longhurst, they have something of Oz about them, with a very garish color scheme for their costumes (bright pinks, purples and yellows) and a distantly anxious soundtrack (designed by Paul Arditti). Meanwhile, Romesh Ranganathan plays the uptight doctor Bill, an unusual choice but one that brings the comedy of this obsessive sidekick to life.

The tone varies from that of retro comedy – Bill wears brown and mustard clothes from the 1970s while Muriel wears a housecoat reminiscent of the same era – to surreal nightmare. The oscillations create a kind of contradiction that may be intentional. The herb garden, in which Susan was originally knocked unconscious, opens up to a very real gritty plant, designed by Soutra Gilmore, bleeding color onto a wavering backdrop (video design by Andre Goulding) where reality and fantasy meet.

Susan isn’t the only one stuck in a fantasy world: Muriel believes her dead husband is visiting her, Rick’s cult has clearly taken over his reality while Gerald lives out his own writing fantasy as he works on a 60-page booklet about the history of his parish.

Revived on its 40th anniversary, the play stands the test of time for its originality and audacity: it is a critique of the emptiness of married life and the despair women feel within that takes us from domestic toil to the supernatural. When it works, it’s worrying. The imaginary beds are intimidating because of their wooden perfection and performative warmth. You feel cold when they turn into terrifying torturers.

It’s a play worth reviving, too, at a time when the real world seems so bleak. What is the alternative to confront it? Looking to turn to fantasy, only to find that this is not a magic solution but another version of the same real-life nightmare?