Jamie can’t swim and has had a lifetime of water taking things away from her. She doesn’t like water, because 1) it’s wet; 2) it probably wants to kill you; and 3) it’s wet. But more sinister and devastating psychological forces swim below the surface of her fear as we get to know our quirky protagonist. In this exceptional one-woman show at The Paines Plough Roundabout at Summerhall, How I Learned to Swim, we follow Jamie’s journey through guilt and grief to acceptance, as she learns to literally and metaphorically tread water. Somebody Jones’s moving script is brought to life through the storytelling and movement of charismatic Frankie Hart under the innovative direction of Emma Jude Harris. Hart breathes life into the different characters as she moves effortlessly and convincingly between them.
How I Learned to Swim is a play about survival, combating both individual tragedy and ricochets of the collective trauma of the Middle Passage of the Transatlantic Slave Trade. It examines the different facets of fear and grief, as we follow the compelling protagonist on her journey. But Somebody Jones’s text does not stagnate in stereotype or wallow in tragedy: interwoven storytelling and myths show that water is benevolent as much as it is destructive.
Somebody Jones’s writing flows between myth, lyricism, and humour as Jamie rises from the depths. The audience bears witness to Jamie, alone on a minimalist poolside island set designed by Debbie Duru, in the middle of the circular Roundabout Theatre. Immersive subaquatic lighting and an impactful sound world created by Nicola T Chang make us feel that we too drown alongside Jamie, and gasp as she resurfaces for air.
Unfortunately, the hour-long limitations of Fringe theatre meant that the climactic moment of the piece felt somewhat contrived and Jamie’s epiphany may have come too easily. However, flawless execution more than made up for slightly rushed storytelling.
How I Learned to Swim is one-person theatre at its greatest. You too will be breathless right until the end.
