Review: F**king Swans (Omnibus Theatre)

Review by Sam Woodward

⭐️⭐

As part of Omnibus Theatre’s 96 Festival, a celebration of queerness and theatre across June and July, the world premiere of F**king Swans arrives in Clapham. Taking place 30 years on from the iconic Pride party on Clapham Common, the festival champions theatre, comedy, cabaret, music, art and activism, while also remembering and celebrating the local queer community. F**king Swans arrives with a strong cast of four actors, a buzz of anticipation from the audience, and a title that keeps you guessing. As you sit in the audience at Omnibus Theatre, confronted by a simple living room setup, there are few clues as to what is about to unfold in this 90-minute play.

Perhaps purposefully shrouded in mystery, F**king Swans is written by Eugene O’Neill Semi-Finalist Elise Marra. The play tells the story of four queer women with various issues, attempting to explore the detailed layers of relationships, heartbreak and navigating a world that seems to be pushing against them. The premise is strong, particularly because queerness is not presented as the problem, but as part of the fabric of these women’s lives. That feels refreshing. Because of this, their complex relationships are able to spill onto the stage with energy and connection, alongside moments of joy, sadness and humour. The opening of the play, centring around wives Ronnie and Harper, explodes with seriously strong acting, setting up the overall plot of Ronnie being deployed for another five years, and Harper being pregnant with a child who may have birth defects. As these two characters explore funny family moments while trying to deal with an emotional undercurrent of fear and loyalty, there was a sense that this could become a strong, moving play.

Unfortunately, this feeling of excited anticipation did not last long, and the opening scene was by far the strongest across the entire play. The writing felt confused at times, and never provided a strong point of view to either get behind or start to dislike any character in particular. The development of all four women was lacklustre, and the dialogue often fell into dull, repetitive conversations. When big moments arrive, dealing with relationships at breaking point, birth defects, blame and accountability, it is never clear why these characters are feeling the way they are, or what any of the harsh arguments are rooted in.

One example of this comes when Ronnie returns from her deployment, and a huge emotional shift should land. Unfortunately, the audience has not been let into the pain, loneliness and struggle that Harper has been experiencing. Instead of understanding the pressure and difficulty of her life, which should have been made clear, the audience is left watching a repeated morning routine that suggests monotony, but reveals very little about Harper’s emotional state. It takes a huge outburst from Harper at the very end of the play, under an umbrella at a funeral, to actually explain why she feels the way she does. A script should not need to explain its emotional stakes so explicitly at the end. It should have shown, hinted at and layered them throughout. Unfortunately, these moments led to what felt more like plot inconsistencies than just missed opportunities.

Not only this, but there are serious issues with pacing. Dialogue often comes hard and fast through the better scenes, but the rest of the 90-minute play is filled with far too many scene changes, silent scenes and lulls, not only in performance but in the energy and interest from the audience. Too many moments of back and forth through the door at the side of the stage, combined with a storyline that fails to grip, left the production feeling less like a fully shaped drama than a collection of unresolved ideas. There does not seem to be an overall message, partly because the play is trying to do too many things, and answer too many questions, all at once. From queerness, to the army, disabled children, cancer, divorce, love, partying and alcoholism, this play is unable to find its voice within the sheer mass of meaning being placed upon it.

Much of this comes down to the writing, but the direction also feels, well, directionless. Here, the production feels as though it may have needed more external distance. When a writer remains very close to their own material, especially in a play with this many themes and theatrical devices, it can become harder to see what needs cutting. The book could be shortened considerably, simplified massively, and this would allow it to find its voice and purpose more clearly. By doing too many things, not just through the storyline but through the many different theatrical devices that are thrown at it, this play lands in confusion rather than sharpness. A fresh directorial perspective could have helped to find the few moments of clarity within a mess of dramatic commotion. There is so much trying to happen that so much gets lost. The child, who is a central figure within the play, seems to disappear for the middle chunk, suddenly re-emerging only in conversation as four years old. The passing of time is a strong theme throughout the show, dealing with a 20-year relationship falling apart, but often the time jumps themselves feel confused.

The production’s greatest strength is its cast. Tasked with a heavy, overly complex story and an inadequate script, the four central actors do their best to make the play flourish, and often manage it. Siubhan Harrison is beguiling as Ronnie, connecting with the audience effortlessly, showing sincere emotion, depth of feeling and accurately portraying a hurt and confused protagonist, while still allowing glimmers of humour, joy and sweetness to come through. Mikkie-Dené Le Roux is just as powerful, and while her character arc does not always make sense, Le Roux does a fantastic job at finding moments of grief, pain and power throughout the play. Often on stage alone, she commands the space easily, and her smile and laughter bring much-needed relief to the heavier moments.

Kelly Lamor Wilson, who not only acts but also produces this show, is the light-hearted comic relief that the play desperately needs. Bold, witty and entertaining, even when dealing with a heavy storyline, Lamor Wilson is effortlessly amusing and stands out for her impressively lively performance. Emma Wilkinson Wright, though not helped by an unconvincing American accent, is also a powerful voice of reason throughout, bringing much-needed grounding to the evening. Together, these four performers do their best with the material, and make the performance far more enticing, interesting and believable than it otherwise would have been.

The lighting design is one of the production’s more successful elements. Emma Daly makes ingenious use of a few spotlights, elevating the otherwise simple set during scene changes, atmospheric shifts and difficult conversations. The lighting is well executed and adds a much-needed new dimension to the play. The set works well enough, and the use of the aisles, the wider stage space, doors and windows helps open up the otherwise domestic setting. Only at the very end of the play, during a moving scene between Ronnie and Harper, do the words “f**king swans” finally materialise. However, used as part of an anecdote from the past, it still remains aggravatingly unclear why this is the name of the play, or if there is a deeper connection to be made.

Unfortunately, F**king Swans does not live up to the promise of either its premise or its place within Omnibus Theatre’s 96 Festival. What begins as an interesting four-woman dynamic becomes weighed down by breakups, medical conditions, addiction, grief, military service and even a bit of line dancing, without ever making clear what it wants those elements to reveal. Perhaps, with stronger direction and a much more ruthless edit, there is a deeper and more affecting play hidden here. In its current form, though, I struggled to find it.

F**king Swans plays at Omnibus Theatre until 13 June. Tickets from https://www.omnibus-clapham.org/whatson/f**king-swans