Writer: Alys Williams
Director: Andrea Heaton
‘What use will you be if you go under?’ asks the woman who, trying to save a partner struggling with despair, feels herself in danger of drowning too. She must keep going, finding moments of silliness amid the sadness, holding the hope for someone who doesn’t feel strong enough to hold it themselves.
In this intensely emotional performance, Alys Williams takes us with her on a very personal voyage – quite literally, as she musters a fair number of audience members to provide sound effects and play the roles of her best friend, mother, father, and various other characters. We were alerted about ‘gently embedded’ audience participation beforehand, but really, the invitations are extended with such encouraging smiles that it would be hard to resist (and how wonderful was the moment where Alys invited a woman to dance with her, and the whole sequence took off in a playful and completely delightful direction – inevitably unique to this performance and audience, of course). Using audience collaboration in this way must be an exciting way to make theatre, and it certainly creates a bond of co-creation, a sense of shared purpose.
Alys Williams, writer as well as performer of the play, is a vividly open and honest presence throughout. ‘Nathan’, the partner whose mental health story the play follows, is mostly played (charmingly) by an angle poise lamp, the ‘head’ of which is made to nod and dip expressively as its light glows and dims. A simple, nautically-themed set is lit atmospherically (lighting design by Matthew Carnazza) and direction by Andrea Heaton allows the words and physicality of the performance plenty of space to breathe.
The play returns repeatedly to the metaphor of the ‘Man Overboard’ protocol. Whistles must be blown, flotation devices thrown, and crucially, a crew member must point towards the person who is adrift – and keep on pointing, keeping the person in view through whatever pain and exhaustion follows. As Alys tries to keep Nathan afloat, there is searing frustration about the lack of support from services and the months spent waiting for appointments, but in the end a recognition that the ‘man overboard’ protocol works because it brings people together, and the people who really matter, will be there. However stormy the seas, there’s hope for us all if there are lighthouses, and lanterns, and someone to keep us in sight until recovery can begin.
This play is a fierce cry of love and hope. As its crew sets off on a voyage around venues in Scotland and the north of England over the next few months, it offers an uplifting and life-affirming collective experience.
As we’re told at the beginning: ‘There’s one thing you should know. It’s going to be okay.’
Reviewed on March 28th tours until August | Image: Anthony Robling
