Despite a long and distinguished association with the stage, Martina Laird may be more widely recognised for her screen work, notably her extended tenure as Comfort Jones in Casualty. Driftwood, however, marks her first professionally produced play. Following an earlier run at the RSC’s The Other Place, it now transfers to Kiln Theatre for a month-long engagement.
Set in 1956, the play transports us to Port of Spain, Trinidad, at a moment when the island remains under colonial rule. Though the momentum of change is palpable, independence still lies some six years away. The action unfolds inside ALMA, ostensibly a gentlemen’s club, though its true function is only thinly veiled. The establishment is run by the formidable Pearl and her daughter Ruby, and the fragile equilibrium of their world is disrupted by the unexpected return of Pearl’s estranged son, Diamond.
The political climate provides a clear backdrop. As Trinidad moves tentatively towards self-determination, so too do Pearl and Ruby seek autonomy. Yet their efforts are constrained by the fact that both their home and livelihood are owned by an Englishman, Mansion, who profits handsomely, aided by the steady presence of American servicemen docking nearby. The parallels between personal and national independence are evident, even if they are sometimes drawn with a heavy hand.
More difficult to pin down is the play’s central narrative focus. Laird’s writing is ambitious, perhaps overly so. The first act, in particular, is crowded with ideas and subplots that struggle to cohere. Rather than building towards a decisive climax, the drama disperses its energy across multiple threads, some of which are introduced only to be quietly abandoned.
Among these is a lightly sketched con involving Ruby and her acquaintance Seldom (Shane David-Joseph), a local policeman, which fades almost as quickly as it is established. Attention instead shifts to Pearl’s fraught maternal history and the deeply troubling and incestuous dynamic between Ruby and Diamond. By the close of the first act, the arrival of an American sailor (Ziggy Heath), eager to broker a deal with Diamond and Mansion over a game of cards, adds yet another layer to an already busy narrative.
The second act brings a greater sense of cohesion, narrowing its focus to Diamond’s past and the psychological scars left by his upbringing. A particularly arresting scene sees Pearl tending to his injuries as he regresses into a childlike state; here, Laird’s writing achieves a striking emotional clarity. Yet even in this more controlled act, the density of material can obscure key thematic strands. Justin Audibert’s direction, often so precise, allows the production to sprawl, where a firmer hand might have sharpened its impact.
The performances, however, remain a significant strength. Ellen Thomas commands the stage as Pearl, imbuing her with both steely authority and, gradually, a touching vulnerability. Her journey from apparent coldness to a more nuanced maternal presence is handled with admirable restraint. Cat White’s Ruby provides a compelling counterpoint, her cool composure masking a deep-rooted yearning for escape. White resists overstatement, lending the character a quiet, simmering intensity.
Most compelling of all is Martins Imhangbe as Diamond. His performance captures the character’s contradictions with remarkable assurance, rendering him at once charismatic and unsettling, sympathetic yet dangerous. It is a finely judged portrayal that anchors the production, even as the surrounding narrative occasionally falters.
The use of Trinidadian Patois lends the dialogue an energising rhythm, immersing the audience in the period and place. While there are the occasional slips in accent, the overall effect is evocative. The set design contributes further to this sense of immersion, presenting ALMA as a convincingly worn yet atmospheric colonial interior, balancing faded grandeur with underlying decay.
There is much to admire in Driftwood, not least its rich thematic ambition and a trio of standout performances. Laird’s exploration of personal and political liberation is both timely and resonant. However, the sheer volume of ideas competing for attention ultimately dilutes the play’s impact, making it harder for an audience to fully invest in its world and its characters.
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