It’s fitting that Flush should be staged in the basement studio of Hackney’s Arcola Theatre, given that the play is a love letter to those dingy underground club toilets we all know so well. From director Merle Wheldon and writer April Hope Miller, in a stunning debut, Flush celebrates the hallowed ground that is the ladies’ loo, in all its happy, messy glory. What starts as a winning comedy slowly takes a turn towards something darker and deeper, with an emotional climax that will take your breath away.
The women’s toilet at a Dalston club is the constant backdrop for Flush, which takes place in real time (or near enough). We see snapshots of drama as various cliques flit in and out: work revellers; drunken hens; underage drinkers with fake IDs. After a while, they start to interact (as women in bathrooms so often do), and so we learn their stories. Amongst the vignettes, one stands out most prominently, and most heartrendingly: office newbie Billie, lonely and desperate to fit in, finds her promising work party going badly awry.
It’s a set-up that could seem contrived in the hands of a poorer writer, but Miller’s dialogue is so effortlessly naturalistic that it makes the whole thing soar. She nails the patter of the ladies’ room, with a knack for getting big laughs from brilliantly recognisable moments (like the classic drunken “I love you”, or Billie’s re-record of a supposedly candid voice note).
Miller has credited Wheldon and the cast for contributing material, and perhaps it’s this collaborative approach that makes the characters sound reliably authentic across race, age and sexuality. This authenticity extends to showing some darker, more discomfiting moments too, including some girl-on-girl hate. It’s a credit to Miller and Wheldon that they opt for a nuanced depiction of female relationships, instead of a more one-note, overly sanitised portrayal.
It’s a brilliant ensemble, with most performers nimbly taking on multiple characters. They’ve all got good comedic instincts but it’s Miller herself who shines the most, giving a really physical performance as characters such as the painfully awkward Lara or the bolshie maid of honour Liv. On the dramatic front, Jazz Jenkins has the most to do as Billie, and nails the brief. She and Miller share the play’s emotional final scene, and between them land an absolute gut-punch.
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Flush’s production design is also pretty stellar: Ellie Wintour’s grungy set looks exactly like every nightclub toilet you’ve ever been in, with neon strip bulbs that lighting designer Jack Hathaway later turns into the hazy dreamscape of a trip gone wrong. Sound designer Yanni Ng uses Jacana People’s score sparingly but to great effect, dialling up the intensity when needed and imitating the sweaty oppressiveness of the club.
By the midway point, Flush has already established itself as a standout comedy. By backing up the laughs with a surprising, gut-wrenching and tender second half, Miller turns it into something extraordinary.
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