Review: The Smile of Her (Marylebone Theatre)

Review by Ruth Sealey

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To write an autobiographical play about your family is a brave decision, and to then perform that in one 90-minute act to a theatre audience is braver still. This is exactly what The Smile Of Her does at Marylebone Theatre, opening the door to Christine Lahti’s home and memories in a cathartic exploration of childhood trauma and the way memory shapes us. Would this deeply personal story resonate beyond the family at its heart and strike an emotional chord with the audience? 

First premiering in 2023 in Massachusetts, Academy Award, Golden Globe and Emmy Award winner Christine Lahti’s autobiographical play The Smile of Her now receives its UK premiere at Marylebone Theatre. Following her life from 1950s suburban America through college and into adulthood, Lahti lays her soul bare in a brutal exploration of personal trauma. Reviewing a work this deeply personal is a challenge; the story cannot be rewritten, nor its ending altered. Instead, the success of the piece lies in how effectively those lived experiences are brought to life on stage, inviting an audience into Lahti’s world and encouraging them not just to witness those memories, but to understand and empathise too.

Lahti has written the play as chapters of a book, and this definitely helps the audience place the action in context. The first chapter is shown in lights above the stage: ‘Prologue: Father Knows Best’, and this cleverly sets the tone for the ominous presence of Lahti’s father, who controls his family with a rod of iron and, at times, a belt, to keep the order and control that ripples through his dialogue. Following her through her time at school, into college, and into the world of acting, Lahti shows how childhood experience informs our self-belief, self-worth, and the choices we make in our adult lives.

Starting in a crisp, white room where perfection is expected, Lahti introduces us to her parents and siblings. One of six children, she weaves childhood photographs into the production, grounding the story in another layer of authenticity. Within this family unit, she learns that a woman’s value lies in her looks, compliance with the expectations of a patriarchal society and, above all, her constant smile. She sees her own mother afraid to battle against the constraints of the time and afraid that her daughter’s non-compliance will become her downfall. As the years unfold, feminism becomes her tool to challenge the system that seeks to confine her, reclaiming her own sense of worth.

The experiences that Lahti chooses to share are deeply traumatic, and the production rightly comes with several trigger warnings. She never shies away from confronting the abuse and misogyny she endures, both from within her own family and as she pursues the acting career that will eventually become her space to explore the “beautiful, ugly, complicated mess of what it means to be human.” It makes for an often difficult watch, with prejudice and pain surfacing at almost every turn. Yet Lahti manages to let humour punctuate the dark moments, and the loving relationship and connection she has with some of her family and ultimately with her own children emerges. 

As an audience member, to witness the experiences that women of previous generations were forced to endure is profoundly sobering. Perhaps even more unsettling is the realisation that those attitudes still exist today. As the young Christine makes a wish, saying: “I wish the world would be more fair,” she pauses before asking, “Will it be?” It is a question that feels aimed at the audience sitting before her. I found myself wondering what Lahti sees each time this is asked. Has enough changed, or are we still fighting too many of the same battles?

Under the direction of Mêlisa Annis, the play conveys the passage of time with remarkable clarity despite no change of set or costume. The first half occasionally suffers from a slower pace as the foundations for the family dynamics are carefully laid. However, the second half, as Lahti heads to college and later into New York, gathers momentum and drives the narrative forward. Lahti plays multiple characters throughout the production, and while the male characters are often more immediately recognisable through their voices, some of the female characters lack the same clarity. Small details, such as her mother’s cigarette, provide effective markers, but stronger characterisation through voice, movement or physicality could help each feel more distinct and make the transition clearer for the audience.

The use of ‘Girl’ as Lahti’s younger self is an inspired choice. Initially, I expected her appearances to be confined to the childhood scenes, but her continued presence throughout the play proves deeply affecting. She becomes a constant reminder that the experiences of childhood never truly disappear, and that the inner child remains forever shaped by the events that came before. Isabella Ford embodies ‘Girl’ with beautiful simplicity, and there is a wonderful connection between the two performers on stage. Moving behind the gauze screen, she becomes an almost ghostlike presence, embodying the innocence that Lahti once possessed, while the mirroring of movement between them is a particularly effective touch.

Lahti is exceptional, and telling such a deeply personal story with such clarity and composure is, in itself, inspiring. As the writer and performer, she carries the entire weight of this production, guiding the audience through some of the most painful moments of her life while maintaining a remarkable sense of control and emotional honesty. She has masterfully crafted her experience into a compelling journey of self-discovery and reflection, delivering her story with warmth and vulnerability. On stage, she is both resilient and exposed, with the ability to laugh at herself as she shifts seamlessly between her past self and addressing the audience in the present, in transitions that feel wholly natural. It is a performance that requires immense trust, not only in herself but in the audience, and Lahti creates an intimate connection that makes it impossible not to empathise with her.

Sarah Beaton’s set design captures the confines of the Lahti family home, creating a claustrophobic atmosphere while also allowing the space to transition into college, a car and a wider world beyond her childhood home. The linear lighting from Matt Haskins around the edge of the set complements this, reinforcing the sense of confinement and the boundaries that surround Lahti. However, when Lahti steps beyond the confines of the carpeted house and sits just in front of the audience, we experience a moment of real vulnerability. It is a reminder of how design elements can drive the action and narrative, even in the quietest moments.

Ultimately, The Smile of Her is about one woman’s determination to challenge societal expectations and her incredible resolve to define her own worth.  It tells not only Lahti’s story, but also provides a wider commentary on women’s rights, feminism and how far we have come, while reminding us of how far there is still to go. Told with brutal honesty and wit, this play challenges and uplifts, asking searching questions about the experiences that shape our identities, and whether it is possible to break free from the limitations placed upon us.

The Smile of Her plays at Marylebone Theatre until 29^th August. Tickets from allthatdazzles.londontheatredirect.com/play/the-smile-of-her-tickets

Photos by Mark Senior