Which crimes are the hardest to forgive? Violence; sexual assault; aggravated sexual assault? Yes, that kind of covers the territory. In Sarah Power’s new play, Welcome to Pemfort, currently playing at the Soho Theatre, this ethical and personal dilemma comes wrapped in an oddly discordant comedy about a countryside castle planning its first Living History event. You know the kind of thing: jousting, dressing up in medieval garb and serving olde English grub. But what about the crime?
Set in the cluttered gift shop of Pemfort castle (actually just a fort with a bell tower), the play begins with Uma, the scatty 60-something manager who has a past as a substance abuser, forgetting to tell her staff, teenage history nerd Glenn and 30-something nature-loving Ria, that she has employed Kurtis, a 30-something ex-convict she’s met at Narcotics Anonymous. She wants to give him a second chance, but while Glenn is not so sure, Ria soon grows close to him. However, when Kurtis tells Ria about the crime he was convicted of, many years ago, she has to decide whether he can stay or leave.
The main theme of the story is forgiveness, and the question of which crimes can be ignored as past missteps and which continue to disturb us as evidence of a person’s fundamental badness. When Kurtis says he’s full of “shame and guilt”, truly sorry, and clearly seems to mean it, can Ria believe him? At the same time, does Uma’s desire to give him “an actual second chance” say more about her optimism as a survivor of substance abuse than being a reasonable assessment of the risks of employing an ex-con? Still, can either Glenn, who has a mother suffering from mental health issues as a result of domestic abuse, or Ria, with her feelings for Kurtis, ignore his past actions?
Power’s play also briefly explores the fact that England’s heritage is full of violence. Pemfort is the historic site of a bloody battle in 1264, a ghastly ghost from 1604, and the scandalous activities of a nobleman in 1777. If these things were happening today, we’d probably be revolted, but they are safely confined to the distant past, acquiring the patina of historical interest. To emphasize the point, a more recent death in the bell tower, of Sally Edwards in 1998, in other words in living memory, is also discussed and correctly deemed too sensitive to glamorize in the same way as violence from centuries ago can be. Yet, also it can’t be cancelled – it is part of the local heritage, of local memory. Of Pemfort’s sense of place.
After a weak start, with some very pedestrian exposition, the comedy improves with some moments of entertaining theatricality: there’s a wonderful story about Ria’s relationship with a male deer, and Kurtis’s tai-chi inspired advice of how to approach the animal, which also involves some imaginative head gear. There’s a visually appealing timeline chart, a horrible histories backcloth, a sword fight and some humorous re-enactment. Likewise, the gift shop serves chai. Smiley face emoji. But the main problem is that the show only lasts 90 minutes, which is not enough time to explore all of its potential: the relationship of Ria, sweet but rather uncomplicated, and Kurtis, suffering from his past, is too perfunctory; Uma’s interesting backstory is unexplored; and I’d like to know more about autistic teen Glenn.
So while Power’s writing includes some passages of deep feeling, and the occasional explosion of passion, for much of the time it feels both too mild and not funny enough for this story. This means that Ed Madden’s production is a bit constrained, especially as Alys Whitehead ’s set offers too many chances to stumble over furniture and carpets, with the result that the storytelling is a bit too static. Still, Debra Gillett’s Uma is a well-rounded study, while Lydia Larson’s affectionate Ria and Sean Delaney’s troubled Kurtis make a neat contrast, as does Bad Education’s Ali Hadji-Heshmati as Glenn. Despite its central moral dilemma, and some comic moments, the play is a bit too superficial for its content.
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