Whatever it is that distinguishes rare writing talent, Zoe Cooper has got it. Perhaps it’s her ability to conjure up a remarkably tangible sense of place, or the way her ideas and structure interweave and enrich each other. Maybe it’s the palpable warmth she feels for her flawed characters or her uncanny powers of observation. All these qualities shine through in her latest play, a subtly wrenching piece about the fluid nature of identity, and the delicate dynamic that exists between personality, place and the people we love.
There are only three actors in Guy Jones’s rich production but they bring a sprawling coastal community to life. At the heart of the play are Claire and Kit, a lesbian couple who’ve decided to move back to Kit’s hometown, South Shields, for the birth of their first child. But while Kit feels an instant sense of belonging, Claire struggles to fit in, unsure of how to be herself in this remote, windy and occasionally hostile town.
Cooper’s script combines narration, dialogue and heaps of doubling; it’s a structure that gives the actors brilliant range to play with and also emphasises just how easily identity might splinter or shift. The cast rises to the challenge, as they jump between playing suspicious locals, unruly school kids and rowdy relations. Lucy Briggs-Owen and Zoe West, as teacher Claire and police officer Kit, are wonderful to watch and share fleeting moments of tenderness among a steady stream of bickering, fear and doubt. Tilda Wickham captivates as vulnerable young student Fish who goes for long swims in the ocean.
Sometimes the script is over-packed and Camilla Clarke’s set strains a little too hard for symbolism, particularly in the way it mimics the rifts in Claire and Kit’s relationship. But there’s so much to admire here. This is a play that reminds us that theatre is an innately compassionate medium, a space where a vast community of characters might find total freedom of expression and a place to call home.
At the Orange Tree, Richmond, until 1 June.
