Review: Attachment (Liverpool Everyman)

Review by William Keeling

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Everyman’s finest unite in the emotional rollercoaster, one-woman play Attachment. This challenging take on adoption is designed to spark discussion as Cackles Academy alumni Paislie Reid spotlights and challenges “Disneyfied” perceptions on adoption, aided by graduates of the theatre’s young investment programmes, award-winning playwright Julia Cranney and director Kate Treadall.

What you see with Reid’s Mat is what you get. She wears her heart on her sleeve as she takes us on a journey from being alone to finding a place in the family of James, the man in the silver Škoda. After she builds a relationship with his daughter Grace, they look to start their own family, and the way forward is adoption. However, an early permanence that seems too good to be true unfurls into a truly formidable depiction of the highs and lows of attachment. 

The intensity of Reid’s performance is applaudable. She owns the thrust stage, involving all strands of the audience, never breaking character, even when we are in hysterics at her brusqueness. Her true skill is in managing challenging emotional gear shifts. Initially, she will face situations and people she does not like, namely James’s ex Helen, all guns blazing. However, semblances of warmth from them, which make her feel valued or remind her of caring people like her nan, bring out a remarkable vulnerability. There is an endearing warmth about her on top of that northern no-nonsense. It is when these qualities unite that we get the most soul-crushing monologues. 

While there is a whole invisible ensemble, it is Mat’s foster child, LB, who comes to life most vividly. Mat cradles him so tenderly and describes him with such affection that it feels like he is literally there in her arms. Cranney’s dialogue includes painful details about his birth, making viewers want the very best for that child, which seems to be Mat’s unbounded love. The unseen Grace has a huge impact in nurturing the love Mat has to give because she transforms her worldview on kids. In the early stages of the play, it is moving seeing this woman, who never had friends growing up, have her world turned around watching Strictly with Grace. Her other off-stage bonds are turbulent, embodying the complexities of adult relationships convincingly. She always finds a painful way back to those she loves.  

Cranney showcases herself as an expert writer. This is a well-researched and nuanced script. It highlights that adoption can be messy and that it is not always the fairy tale ending we envisage, both for the child and the families who adopt. There is a realism in each case study. They are all drawn from Liverpudlian adoptive families. What is most impressive is that, whilst it breaks her heart, Mat can see and respect the pros of the eventual outcome. Although, the cons are also very plain in the way we feel at the end. Attachment helps us reach an informed understanding with a full picture that is both emotional and objective. 

The play grapples fiercely with early permanence, where potential parents foster before the court rules what outcome is in the child’s favour. Whilst it is a safe space that enables the child to build relationships, there is also a danger in the way it encourages attachment in a very fluid environment. A sense of threat and edge to this perceived happy ending is achieved through the futuristic, sci-fi lighting from Kieran Sing and robotic voice-overs, courtesy of Noel Jones' sound design. They seem out of place, but actually set the tone just right. We are not meant to feel comfortable, and we are unsettled by his dynamic foreshadowing.

Treadall is a very accomplished director. She gets Reid to use the set designs and space to the best advantage in capturing her physical need for attachment. In the moments where Mat feels most a part of something, she could not look more isolated. She savours each line that speaks of a relationship. However, the fact that she reacts so potently to people who are not actually there reinforces her solitariness. As a result of company and care being things she has never experienced, they become a craving. This is why she is particularly vulnerable to the adoption process. Her fragility is most clear when she barricades herself in the sitting room furniture and folds into herself.

A nice finishing touch is the focus on the mundane. The Tuesday clean is a recurring theme throughout the production that shows the power of everyday tasks to bring people together. Or, at least, Mat thinks they do. The haunting downpour of confetti for her to clean erratically shows that, even in these jobs, there is pain that she is often left to face alone. There is a longing to share this job with those around her which will never really be fulfilled, so it instead becomes a ritual in which she channels all her pent-up feelings. The mess showers down like the rain of sadness rather than shining like the sunshine of happiness she depicts cleaning to be.

Attachment will break your heart. However, you need to have it broken to fully appreciate the complexity of what is being presented. Reid, Cranney, and Treadall are a dream team, pooling their skills into a production that turns everything you think you know about adoption on its head. They invest everything into a game-changing piece of art. 

Attachment plays at Liverpool Everyman until 13th June. Tickets from https://everymanplayhouse.com/event/attachment/

Photos by Brian Roberts