One of the most resonant contemporary slogans is “Build bridges not walls”. Because it applies to the personal as well the political, it has the force of simplicity and directness. The way that building walls can be psychologically destructive, cutting a person off from emotional connection, is exemplified in Mancunian playwright Kit Withington’s new family play, Heart Wall, currently on the main stage at the Bush Theatre. Once part of this venue’s Emerging Writers’ Group, Withington now returns with a distinctly Northern voice – and a work which has power and subtlety, but also some problems.
When 23-year-old Franky returns to her family home in north-west England, after being away for years, training to be an architect in London, she finds several changes: her father Dez is acting in increasingly odd ways, and her mother Linda no longer lives with him all the time. As the details of a past trauma slowly emerge, Franky spends a lot of her time in The Sun Inn, her local boozer, which is run by barman Val, whose mother Irene is gravely ill. A familiar place from the past, this is where Franky meets up with Charlene, her estranged childhood friend. Who’s also changed. Gradually, the only way to break down the barriers of repressed feeling is to tell uncomfortable truths.
As Franky realizes that her father needs more care and support, she decides to stay on longer than she first planned. She then starts to find out that she no longer really knows who Dez and Linda are, in the present, but only as they once were when she was growing up. And if Val has changed comparatively little, Charlene is very different – and resents the fact that Franky has not kept in touch since she went off to uni. Likewise, the people she left behind can’t really understand why she has left her boyfriend and job in London to return to her Lancashire hometown, a place where you can see both Manchester and Liverpool from the local reservoir.
Withington’s writing is firmly focused on character. Franky is a young woman on a quest, who becomes conscious of just how repressed her family life has been, but that doesn’t mean that she knows what she’s doing. Being quite full of herself, she’s not very attractive. At one point, she even asks her mum, “Do you think I’m a totally spoiled-brat selfish bitch?” It’s not a bad description, but the reasons for her judgmental attitude towards other people soon become clearer. It’s her way of coping with terrible grief, and the trauma that envelops her parents. Slowly, she realizes that she can’t simply run away from the truth. But this requires some very painful conversations, and some honest talk that is gradually drawn from Dez and Linda.
Heart Wall is quite subtle in its writing and often very perceptive when dealing with fraught issues about failing relationships and unspoken secrets. The avoidance strategies of its protagonists are acutely represented. The playwright takes us by the hand to guide us through the mess of feelings, from the energetic Charlene’s incisive comments, such as “We’re all hiding bits of ourselves – the bits we’re not proud of”, to Franky’s realization that, talking about Dez, “I was meant to put you back together”, but “sometimes I feel like I need putting back together”. Images of water, from the dripping ceiling of the pub to the final scene when father and daughter dip their toes into the water of honest talk, soak into the piece.
The fact that all the characters have known each other for years means that Withington can dispense with the usual clumsy exposition. Instead, we immediately witness Franky trying to find out what happened to her pet rabbit, named Paul Scholes after the Man U footballer, and soon we’re treated to some eccentric incidents, from Dez using bath slats to scrub his face, to a doctor prescribing a scream on a hilltop as therapy for extreme loss. There are other memorable moments, such as the throat-burning flavour of Black Sambuca, lines of coke in the pub toilet, a stuffed pet dog, and, of course, karaoke.
Yes, the karaoke. Although I’m mentioning this last, it’s actually the first thing that hits you when you arrive for the show. Or rather the pre-show, which involves members of the audience performing songs by Robbie Williams, Shania Twain and S Club 7, among others. The trouble with this audience participation, which adds 20 minutes to the 100-minute running time, is that it’s such glorious fun that the actual play feels a bit like a letdown, although that also features karaoke. And, although written with deep feeling, the play is imperfect. Its plotting lacks drama, and you can count at least five major gaps in the storytelling. It’s easier to respect Heart Wall than it is to love it.
Still, Katie Greenall’s production, which is realistically designed by Hazel Low, features some good acting, even if most of the characters are rather unattractive. Rowan Robinson’s Franky has a nice mix of big-city snobby disdain and longing to belong to a place that, in fact, no longer satisfies her, while Deka Walmsley’s Dez and Sophie Stanton’s Linda both convincingly shoulder the burdens of a long marriage, whose most traumatic episode is still being felt. By delightful contrast, Olivia Forrest’s Charlene is vigorously funny and punchy, while Aaron Anthony’s Val has a kindly steadiness that carries its own force. Surely a candidate for the Hollies’ “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother” karaoke. This is a sensitive, if also rather frustratingly incomplete, portrait of family life.
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