Seal Boy – Riverside Studios, London

Writer: Ken Weitzman

Director: Sean Turner

Species of seals can be found across the globe. We often have a cute image of them, especially of harp seal pups with their white fur. But at the other end of the spectrum is the leopard seal. While it is prey for the orca, it is more of a predator and has been known to kill penguins and other seals.

Nine months pregnant, Meg (Victoria Serra) does not know what her new baby will be, and she uses the variety of aquatic mammals as a metaphor for the possibilities. The indecision and worry of a new parent are amplified when her lawyer husband (Perry Moore), a family lawyer, takes on a big case in a firm that specialises in suing “negligent” parents who have allowed their children to become disruptive.

Ken Weitzman’s one-act play Seal Boy starts out as an absurdist comedy. Meg consults a variety of self-help books, each voiced by a member of the supporting cast. Their contrasting, often contradictory advice sends Meg spinning. When she gives birth to a toy seal, it furthers the feel of a dreamlike manifestation of Meg’s fears and trepidation.

But as the infant grows up into the strapping Olivier Sublet, towering over the rest of the cast even without his helmet-like seal mask, it is clear that something else is going on. Seal Boy only talks using phrases he has overheard other people saying, quickly establishing that this is a young child with some very special developmental needs.

The transition from surreal laughs to a piece that only has the slightest veneer of metaphor is an uncomfortable one. There is a period of overlap where Seal Boy’s behaviour is used as an extension of the comedy with which the play starts, especially as it’s not clear that this isn’t just more manifestation of Meg’s worries. During those moments, it feels as if we’re being invited to laugh at his behaviour, rather than empathise with the family.

Gradually, Weitzman’s writing morphs into a deeper, while still allegorical, story of parents struggling with a son with special needs. Serra thoughtfully expresses the frustration, fear, guilt, and love – often felt all at once – while Moore’s pride at eventually doing the bare minimum of parenting after years of relying on his wife to attend to their son is a blackly comedic grace note.

The initial strains of absurdism remain, with cartoonish characters popping up throughout. That does make it harder to connect with the realities underlying Seal Boy’s ongoing story, although the scenes of his being bullied by schoolmates, furthering Meg’s fears that she may have a leopard seal rather than a cute harp pup, are chillingly and effectively realised.

A relationship with a weirdly sexual kink with Sophia Borkenhagen’s Penguin Girl comes to dominate the play’s latter half, plunging the play into yet another layer of artifice. And while the performances engage throughout, there is perhaps one too many steps away from reality for Weitzman’s message to hit through.

Continues until 7 April 2024