A tender look at intergenerational relationships
There’s a moment in the first half of Mumsy, Lydia Marchant’s striking debut, when Sophie (Jessica Jolleys), an idealistic 22-year-old who is pregnant courtesy of an underwhelming Tinder date, takes out her karaoke machine and convinces her mum Rachel (Nicola Stephenson) to sing along like they used to.
Rachel obliges, and they perform an enthusiastic routine. They finish and Rachel grabs her coat ready to go to her pole-dancing class. Sophie is crestfallen, having planned a whole night of activities. Alone, in the silence of the house, she begins to talk to her unborn child, clearly craving human connection.
Marchant’s intergenerational story simmers with such moments throughout, beautifully balanced between comedy and tragedy. Originally conceived as a two-hander, the story is at its most gripping in the scenes between Sophie and her mother. Marchant creates an intimacy between the characters and the audience while telling a story about the precarious nature of zero-hour contracts, unethical employers and the struggle to make ends meet.
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The arrival of a third character, Sophie’s grandmother Linda (Sue Kelvin), adds a chaotic element, her broken leg and lack of options meaning that Rachel’s one-bed flat must now house three generations. Tensions over the past and unresolved traumas resurface, threatening to break the family’s bonds but the trio realise their love for one another is greater than their differences.
The women’s struggles are nicely balanced with an equal focus on the joy in their lives. From Sophie’s early dreams of motherhood to Linda’s impulsive decision to go to university, the three see challenges as obstacles to be overcome rather than crushed by.
Zoë Waterman’s direction shines, teasing out a breathtaking performance from Jolleys, as well as strong turns from Stephenson and Kelvin. All create relatable and sympathetic characters. Bronia Housman’s set begins as minimalist and ordered, reflective of Rachel, before turning into a tsunami of clothes, blankets and pillows after Sophie’s arrival. The compromise between them is mirrored on the stage as the house becomes tidy – but still cluttered – by the end.
Comedies about working-class women are rare. Those that portray those women in all their complexity without looking down on them are rarer still. Mumsy is a tender exploration of the power of connection and perseverance.
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