Writer: Tabitha Hayward
Director: Rohan Gotobed
This bold two-hander from Tabitha Hayward begins with the air of a production of Waiting for Godot. The stark staging, which represents an Iron Age hillfort, consists of a mammoth tree stump with two spindly trees in the background. Fifteen-year-olds Viv and Daisy wait around, pondering life and wrestling with boredom. They are waiting, however, for a ghost who has been regularly appearing in this spot at 1am. The beginning of Hamlet is brought to mind here, too, but such reference points are fleeting because Fort stands strong on its own foundations as a dazzlingly funny and moving evocation of two female friends navigating new emotional territory.
As demonstrated by their strong West Country accents, Viv (Megan Marszal) and Daisy (Martha Harlan) are natives of a rural North Dorset village, a small-town community where everyone knows each other and gossip becomes its own mythology. The fort is the place the girls go to be themselves and escape family strife. Much like a childhood fort built in a living room out of sheets and blankets, their hilltop equivalent is a space where they play games of make-believe, but as they enter their teenage years these games become their way of processing trauma, secrets and lies.
The ghost as a character and symbol in the play mirrors the kind of archetype found in new age psychology and Tarot that might take a certain hold on the minds of two teenage girls: to the extent that it becomes real. You quickly see how vulnerable they are, despite the ballsy confidence and humour they exude. And they become gloriously unreliable narrators of their own stories.
They take it in turns to be the emotional one, the angry one, the funny one, but it’s Daisy who has decided to extricate herself from the village and set up permanent camp at the fort. She comes across as more soulful, sensitive and secretive, developing an obsession with the ghost, patiently waiting at night for him to turn up. Viv makes jokes about what he is like: “Is he fit?” The irreverent, puerile humour of adolescents is perfectly captured in the writing. The script is conversational and often mundane, fully believable and organic in the way it hints at what is really going on in the girls’ lives.
This is not the kind of jump-scare ghost story where shadowy figures appear at the back of the stage. Rather we see an exploration of the human urge to create stories in order to communicate deeper, out-of-reach truths, but also potentially to repress horrible experiences. At times it feels like the play is a dramatic reconstruction of how to repress childhood trauma.
The fort acts as a charged ancient backdrop to their modern lives. The girls are aware of its significance. We learn that Viv’s mother passes on to them all sorts of pagan-adjacent wisdom. They discuss how she probably would’ve been seen as a witch if they were in the olden days. And this is an identity they embrace for themselves as well, as they perform their own spells and summonings with their own made-up language. These rituals are at once hilarious and profound – which is an apt way of describing the play as a whole, actually.
We’re treated to two wonderful performances, running the gamut from floods of tears on the floor to dancing and singing along to Girls Just Want to Have Fun. Marszal and Harlan successfully produce the aura of two best friends who have known each other all their lives. There’s a physicality that’s somehow awkward and carefree at the same time; it’s two people constantly readjusting and learning about each other, creating ruptures so they can become closer again, and it’s a highly affecting theatrical experience.
Runs until 17 January 2025