The Beach House review

There is a substantial amount of strange expressive movement, with no dialogue. A bloated section where Liv wipes at a deep cut that Jenny has on her stomach precedes their first kiss. Elsewhere, Liv runs clumsily back and forth on the small stage in a fashion that is supposed to evoke the inner romantic turmoil of having feelings for two people simultaneously. All of it is performed over folky music composed by Holly Khan which, although dulcet, does nothing to maintain the pace.

Then there are the agonising pauses in the action to let inelegant crashing-wave sounds blare out. It’s an attempt to evoke the crumbling beach house that Kate and Liv inhabit, but all it achieves is to make us feel even more disconnected from the play’s sluggish development. The three actors all give accomplished performances – particularly Gemma Barnett as the younger, free-spirited Jenny – so it is unfortunate that none is given an opportunity to show her strengths properly.

All at once, things race from nought to a hundred, with Kate’s suspicion of Jenny abruptly reaching its peak. There’s a rushed sisterly showdown, no argument at all between the couple, and then we’re back to the mundanity of trying to make a life with a child work. With the destruction of such close romantic and familial relationships at stake, and a young baby’s future with its parents unclear, it should feel perilous. Rather, I left empty and completely untouched.