Martin Sherman’s Rose was apparently written with Maureen Lipman in mind, but when the play premiered at the end of the twentieth century, it was Olympia Dukakis who would star in the production at The National Theatre. Two decades later, and with theatres closed because of a worldwide pandemic, Maureen Lipman finally took on the role, performing from the stage of an empty theatre to people watching isolated at home on screens.
Such was the success of this online revival of Rose, Lipman has returned to the role once more, this time in theatres packed with eager audiences. Rose opened first at Manchester’s Hope Mill Theatre, the venue from which it had been streamed, and now comes to London’s Park Theatre for a limited run.
The play itself is set just before the turn of the new millennium; with Rose, an eighty year old Jewish woman, sitting Shiva. It isn’t until towards the end of the play that we discover who Rose is mourning, but before this we get the sense that she’s mourning something more than just one individual, “I’m eighty years old. I find that unforgivable, and suddenly it’s a millennium and I stink of the past century.”
During the time we spend with Rose, she recounts the life that she’s led. Growing up in a small village in Ukraine, something that has taken on even more significance since Lipman last performed the role, to living the American Dream in Miami via Atlantic City. Rose admits herself that she’s not sure if what she’s describing really happened, or if she’s merely recalling black and white Pathe newsreels.
But the stories are alive with colour, Sherman blending personal stories with political milestones and inviting the audience to share in Rose’s highs and lows. It’s emotional enough as a story, but becomes all the more poignant when we realise just how little has changed in the twenty odd years since Rose was first performed.
Under the direction of Scott Le Crass, the audience are allowed to focus fully on the story that Rose is telling. Lipman sits on a small wooden bench with very few props around her, David Shields and Jane Lalljee’s set and lighting transport us metaphorically through Rose’s memories. It’s a perfect example of how storytelling should be done.
There are wonderful moments of comedy, which Lipman delivers with a satisfactory dryness, but in the main this is a deeply emotional play that tackles distressing topics, such as the Holocaust. Striking though, is the way that the audience, whether Jewish or not, can feel the weight and magnitude of the words.
The script is beautifully written, but it’s the performer that really makes Rose an unmissable piece of theatre. Maureen Lipman’s magnificent solo performance is spell-bindingly captivating, and to see her perform it without a screen between actor and audience, feels like an unforgettable privilege.
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