Writer: Marina Carr
Director: Carrie Cracknell
Carrie Cracknell’s overwrought production of Portia Coughlan overplays its hand early on, creating an imbalance that proves difficult to recover from. Meanwhile, the musical interludes, added for this new staging with original songs by Maimuna Memon, search for an emotional resonance that never fully reaches the characters.
Tormented by the death of her twin brother Gabriel half a lifetime before, Portia Coughlan wakes on the morning of her 30th birthday hating her life with no affection for her husband or their children. A series of encounters with family members, friends and neighbours push Portia further towards despair and, increasingly drunk, takes the opportunity to speak her mind to anyone who needs to hear it.
Carr’s play centres around a terrifying portrait of grief so raw it is as though the death occurred only yesterday and Portia’s dislocated and increasingly fractious state of mind dominates the drama to the point where other characters become mere sketches. Using a twinning theme, Carr creates mirrored scenes between Acts One and Two in which Portia has very similar conversations with other people in her life on two separate occasions, culminating in the play’s dramatic conclusion which is revealed to the audience at the end of the first act.
And although Portia is clearly a woman on the edge of something dark and consuming, in nearly 2.5 hours of drama, there still has to be somewhere for the character to go, an emotional range and build-up that takes the audience towards that decisive ending. Yet, Alison Oliver’s performance, though weighed down with anger, bitterness and the very desperation that her character needs, plays a similar pitch throughout, all those teary emotions present from her first to the last scene, which gives away any chance for her Portia to develop.
Neither is Portia an especially sympathetic creation; rude, aggressive and completely unyielding, her depressive episodes merge into a single state of being resulting in spiteful accusations being hurled at anyone who tries to get close to her. While the audience can see her pain through the complex relationships and decisions that have led her to this birthday moment, Cracknell’s production never makes you care about her – in fact, you just feel rather sorry for everyone else.
Alex Eales’ set has some nice touches such as swift transfers from Portia’s house to the local bar, but the intruding rocky riverbank to the rear becomes quite a basic divide between the domestic and natural world which is only moderately effective as scenes jump from indoor to outdoor, front of stage to the back. Memon’s haunting songs are lovely – performed by Archee Aitch Wylie while Memon appears in her own show at Southwark Playhouse – yet the tone of Portia Coughlan never quite matches the soulful, contemplative quality of Memon’s lyrics and Wylie’s vocal.
Cracknell’s approach has some very funny moments drawn from the community around its central character, particularly Sorcha Cusack as Portia’s crabby grandmother and Kathy Kiera Clarke as a former prostitute settled in the village, and Oliver’s Portia really does find all those notes of misery. But it’s a shame this production tries to play them all at once.
Runs until 18 November 2023
