New writing for the theatre is good at taking us into the darkest of places – and there are few more painful environments than prisons and mental institutions. Places where agony radiates off the walls, and anguish is in the air we breathe. So it’s a real challenge for Sophia Griffin, in her debut play, After Sunday, at the Bush theatre, to takes us on just such a journey into an unforgiving world of distress, disappointment and despair. If the result is not completely successful, it does have an excellent cast who deliver some powerfully moving moments.
Set in a secure unit, basically a psychiatric hospital where prisoners are sent for indefinite periods, the play is about a Sunday cookery class led by occupational therapist Naomi, who aims to help three Caribbean men by reminding them of the flavours and smells of home. When Ty, Leroy and Daniel arrive to take part, while a fourth, Vincent, is a no show, it becomes clear that while Naomi believes in the healing power of food, and would like the men to prepare edibles for the upcoming Family and Friends Day, the men all have problems. And Naomi herself has issues at home. Can all of them overcome these drawbacks and create a successful event?
The 100-minute drama, which takes place within the unit’s kitchen, is a character study: Ty, mixed race with Trinidadian and white heritage, is the youngest in the group, the noisiest, most energetic, angriest and most provocative. A real handful, as the other two know too well. Jamaican Leroy, in his 50s, is the oldest, self-controlled but aching to see his estranged daughter again, while thirtysomething Daniel is similarly focused on his family, and especially his children, and wants to bake his daughter a birthday cake. All have anxieties which Naomi, a mixed-race Brummie in her 30s, has to soothe, and defuse tensions in the class, while also helping them to cook Caribbean food.
Griffin effectively shows the fragility of the situation both by representing the emotional instability of her characters, in particular Ty, and by stressing how the routines of these Sunday sessions is essential to their mental health. Whenever there is a change in this routine, such as an emergency on one of the wards, or a piece of bad news which impacts on a particular individual, the situation is destabilized. For the men, the stakes are very high: the kitchen has strict rules about permission to use objects such as knives and lighters, and some of them have to be escorted in and out of the room by guards. Since their indefinite stay in the unit is determined by a panel which has the power to return them to prison or release them, they are all worried about what Naomi or another inmate might say about them.
At the same time, Griffin also shows how Naomi’s dedication to the job is having a negative effect on her home life, while also illustrating – in her relationship with the institution’s leaders – how little control she has over the whole situation. Like the men, she is a worker. The mercurial condition of the patients and the orders coming down from above put her in an extremely difficult position, which is easy to empathize with. Likewise, it is hard not to be sympathetic to the three men who are battling their inner demons, each other’s egos and their memories and thoughts about the outside world, the normal society that they have been excluded from.
Within the confines of the kitchen, which gives the playwright very little room for manoeuvre (although she also includes brief episodes when Naomi phones home and others when she speaks to her line manager), the psychology of all involved is put inside a pressure cooker. The desperation of the men’s situation means that they resort to telling lies, to manipulation and to self-deception. As absent fathers, their guilt runs deep. Griffin, who has been a member of this venue’s Emerging Writers Group, is very perceptive, good at showing the mood swings of her characters, their vulnerabilities as well as their aggression, and their profound unwillingness to confront the grim truths of their past actions.
After Sunday is a play which is infused not only with deep emotional content, but also with a lot of humour and jokes. Some one-liners are excellent, as when the canteen is characterized as a place “where flavour goes to die”, or Ty is shown to be “destined to share birthdays” rather than enjoy his own unique time. At different moments this mixture is not entirely successful, and the balance between comedy and cruelty is not as certain as it could be. I also think that the storytelling could be clearer, and perhaps a longer play could bring out more about the back stories of the characters, both the men and their teacher. And although this is a vivid picture of bleak masculinity, it doesn’t say enough about black masculinity. My appetite is stimulated, but this doesn’t quite satisfy.
A coproduction between the Bush and Belgrade Theatre Coventry, whose Creative Director Corey Campbell directs, the piece is designed by Claire Winfield, whose shiny clean kitchen is adorned with a line of West Indian flags. The cast is excellent, with Aimée Powell very grounded as Naomi, Corey Weekes full of energy and occasionally dangerous as Ty, contrasting with Darrel Bailey’s sad Daniel and David Webber’s stoical Leroy. Although I think Campbell’s inclusion of slow dance moves between scenes is an unnecessary distraction from the naturalistic tone of the writing, and XANA’s music a bit over-dramatic, this is a fitfully enjoyable evening which raises awareness of a serious social issue, the under-resourced nature of provision for the incarcerated, and the dehumanization that comes from this. In view of this, I’m eager to see what Griffin does after After Sunday.
Add comment