In
a way it is unfortunate that just as Equity voice their protests that
subsidised theatres offer too few roles for women, the Royal Court
opens a four-hander in its main house which features only one man. And
he’s pregnant.
Joe Penhall’s latest play begins with the appearance of a simple
role-reversal, as high-strung Ed and too-ostentatiously-solicitous Lisa
await the midwife’s arrival in their hospital room, shortly after Ed’s
labour has been induced. However, it soon becomes apparent that this is
not the beginning and end of the matter, as with that 1970s
family-planning poster of an abdominally bulging young chap. In this
alternative present, men can be implanted to carry (ectopically) and
bear (by C-section) children as an alternative to female pregnancy: as
an affirmation of gay family lifestyle, for instance, or as here
because Lisa can no longer do so, following complications at a previous
delivery.
Consequently, although Penhall – and director Roger Michell and his
cast – have some fun with mixing and matching gender stereotypes in
this area, it is only one part of the picture. The same-only-different
perspective refreshes what would otherwise be rather hackneyed personal
stresses, as both Ed and Lisa consider the viability of their
relationship. And although it may or may not have been Penhall’s
primary intention, the here-and-gone midwife and the registrar who
doesn’t appear until halfway through serve as an illustration at once
novel and trenchant of the strain under which NHS resources and
structures are being placed. We are clearly working on several levels
here.
The part of Ed could have been written for Stephen Mangan: he always
seems to embody the assorted unreasonablenesses of the modern bloke
whilst still being somehow endearing. Lisa Dillon has a plateful of a
role as Lisa, who has it all (family, career) except a core component
(biology) and is deeply conflicted as to whether she wants any of it.
Llewella Gideon and Louise Brealey as the medical staff are more
simplistically written, presenting one facet (brusque midwife,
overworked junior registrar) then softening in order for a payoff. But,
as with last year’s
Haunted Child
which I championed more than some of my colleagues, Penhall allows us
to put the pieces together as we please. Ninety minutes of
entertainment or a deceptive think-piece, it’s still a healthy,
bouncing bundle.
Written for the Financial
Times.