FLUSH – fiery? Leaping? Unmissable? Heartfelt? All words I felt, having experienced the breathtaking drama FLUSH at Pleasance Courtyard.
But this play is no acronym. If it were, it would be one about sisterhood and the danger of betraying female connections. Following the bathroom stories of numerous women, the play explores conversations up against tiled walls, muffled by the flushes of toilets. FLUSH by April Hope Miller examines female voices in times of vulnerability, within the usually private space of the toilet. Five masterful actors carve out this tale – leaving the protagonist, Billy, isolated, having experienced a brutal sexual assault. And whilst Billy is left alone, the other women continue with their lives, unaware.
In Hope Miller’s debut play, the text never misses a beat. Overlapping dialogue serves perfectly as a metaphor for the women’s unity in their isolated situation in the cubicles. The writing ultimately creates a dynamic, absorbing production, which delivers emotionally yet also brings sprinklings of well-measured comedy. While, at points, the writing does become a bit of a rant on female issues (especially plastic surgery), which seem inconsequential in the context of the play, the majority of the work leaves you hooked.
Truly, kudos must go to the actors of FLUSH: that is the stunning performances from writer April Hope Miller, Ayesha Griffiths, Jazz Jenkins, Joanna Strafford and Miya Ocego. The performers dealt with the gut-wrenching moments with such care and delicacy, and as an audience member I felt extremely comfortable in their presence, which is impressive given the often intense and graphic nature of the show. There is such chemistry and authenticity within the actors, as was evident in the bows – actors were genuinely emotionally impacted by their performance.
Simultaneously, the team behind FLUSH do an impressive job with the set for this show. The sub-divided cubicle block both creates and dissolves boundaries between the actors and underlines the key message of the danger of betrayal of each other. Despite the fact the toilet divisions could have been used more often, the direction by Merle Wheldon is superb, especially when the protagonist Billy is abandoned, lurking at the back of the toilet, as the other characters wash past her. At points, she becomes defensive and aggressive in her character, but this is juxtaposed by her vulnerability – the reason for her anger. The play’s resolution comes with connection, not countless petty arguments, and finally it is not the flushing away of troubles which helps but the women who assist each other, offer support, which resolves issues.
A captivating examination of femininity in moments of crisis which everyone should champion and be willing to see.
