Longing for more and the brutal reality of the present collide in this uneven revival of Alan Ayckbourn’s dark comedy, largely rescued by terrific performances from Sheridan Smith and Romesh Ranganathan.
Ayckbourn’s comedy revolves around Susan (Smith), a bored, middle-class, suburban housewife trapped in an increasingly banal marriage to the kind but dull vicar Gerald (Tim McMullan), and heartbroken by her estranged relationship with cult-member son Rick (Taylor Uttley). Susan’s life takes a drastic turn however, when, seemingly bashed on the head with an unfortunate garden rake accident, her life splits into two, drifting from the boring present into an idealised version of her life, spearheaded by the hunkish husband Andy (Sule Rimi) and perfect daughter Lucy (Safia Oakley-Green).
It is a simple enough premise, yet what limits the impact of this particular production is the awkwardness of the direction and design. Much of the first half is thrust right at the stage’s edge, squashing the action onto the apron in a way that stifles the attempts to blend Susan’s real and imagined existence. It is a frustrating direction choice from Michael Longhurst, as it limits much of the action from organically growing, with it being a blessed relief when the safety curtain finally opens, even if it is just to reveal an enormous grassy field, designed by Soutra Gilmour.
This is a shame, as the condensed spacing detracts from what is a collection of fun, impactful, individual performances. Smith’s portrayal of a woman on the edge is terrific, and while much of the play is spent enjoying Susan’s curt remarks (especially to dreadful cook and morbid widow Muriel, portrayed by a terribly underused Louise Brealey), it really is during the piece’s climax, as Susan’s psychological break, and her parallel worlds erode, that Smith truly shines. Indeed, in the play’s final moments, the frantic energy of the chaos is replaced by a wonderful spotlighting of Susan’s battered, broken existence, reflecting the play’s ideas about the role of women and the clash between domestic life and striving for more, with Smith’s sublimely delivered gibbering Susan a heartbreaking, poignant vision.
Although the play has quite a torridly emotional final twenty minutes, there is also quite a good amount of humour, especially once the stage opens up a little more and characters come and go within Susan’s visions. Romesh Ranganathan’s portrayal of the hapless doctor Bill is terrific, and really does rescue the production in a brilliant opening to the second half, injecting some much-needed pace and energy, especially in a wonderful mime sequence but also in one particularly well-executed scene between Bill and Susan and an awkwardly placed hand on thigh.
There are more glimmers of this, such as Brealey’s brilliant turn as Miriam, storming the stage with another poisonous brew, or exclaiming her dead husband has left her suggestive chalk notes on the wall, though a fault of the script is that Miriam, who, especially with Brealey’s delivery, has so much potential, is limited in stage time.
Like Susan herself, Woman in Mind is a bit all over the place. The production is held together by its excellent cast, and when the characters are given space to breathe, there is a lot to be intrigued by here. Yet in places it is too contradictory and too misjudged, robbing the spotlight of Susan during a complex exposition which needs as much clarity as possible for the rest of the show to land.
Nevertheless, Sheridan Smith’s enthralling delivery of Susan’s breakdown as the piece reaches its climax is worth slogging through the earlier desperate dialogue. Like Susan, though, you are left at times wishing you were somewhere else.
