Amanda Abbington takes the lead to powerful effect in the European premiere of this play by New York Times-bestselling author Tawni O’Dell, directed by the Park Theatre’s artistic director, Jez Bond. Billed as a ‘theatrical memoir’, based on O’Dell’s own experiences, it unflinchingly charts the ripple effect for a whole family when author Tara (Abbington) is called at 3am by her distraught daughter, Esme (Rosie Day), saying that she has been raped by a stranger in her New York apartment.
This call happens within minutes of the play opening, with Abbington and Day as two of four actors on a bare stage, alongside Miles Moran as Connor, the son and brother, and Tok Stephen, who takes on multiple roles – from a detective, to a therapist, to, later on, Tara’s boyfriend – as the play progresses. They address us, as well as each other. Via Tara, O’Dell quickly calls the rape what it is and asks why we so often resort to euphemisms. This de-sensationalised approach doesn’t treat Esme’s sexual assault as some kind of crass, final act ‘event’, as is too often the case with women characters in theatre. Instead, it focuses on the emotional devastation left in its wake, as Esme’s life spirals away from everyone, Tara sells the family home and Connor retreats from his mum and sister.
Abbington is painfully good as Tara, layering anger and vulnerability as her character struggles not only with how to help her daughter but how to confront the impact of the rape on herself. It’s an unsentimental performance – internalised and suddenly fierce. She brandishes the play’s bleak narratorial sarcasm like a defence mechanism. And when the play takes a breath and slows to a long final scene that makes a reveal that is devastatingly unsurprising, she holds that moment with a burning sense of honesty and entreaty. As a woman talking about the actions of men, she makes the ‘liveness’ of theatre count in an electrifying way.
It's a shame, then, that the rest of the play too often feels disjointed. Like the neon outline of a cityscape that looms over the stage, the other characters are thinly drawn. Day powerfully conveys Esme’s numbed self-destructiveness – but only in spite of the choppiness of the scenes, as the cast snap back and forth between places and events via fragments of dialogue. You can feel the strain as the play seeks to cover a huge terrain in 90 minutes. Bond tries to flesh out its relationships by having the actors also wordlessly interact. But instead of building to a tapestry of lives, as is the play’s admirable intention, we’re left with snatched glimpses.