Review: The White Chip (Southwark Playhouse Borough)

Review by Sam Waite

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Many branches of Alcoholics Anonymous will mark their members’ progress with Sobriety Coins, alternately known as chips – the concept is borrowed from outside influences, but AA has undoubtedly popularised the idea. The first chip awarded is considered to be the most important, marking either the first 24 hours or the genuine desire to stop drinking. The White Chip, Sean Daniels’ semi-autobiographical play about the recovery process, makes a point to demonstrate the titular token’s significance is this new production at Southwark Playhouse Borough.

Steven, our stand-in for Daniels, begins by telling us about his first taste of alcohol, and about the lapsed Mormon household in which he was raised. Belief and baptism are still central to the lives of his friends and family, but stricter rules about abstaining from the likes of caffeine and alcohol are largely disregarded. After a rocky, party-fuelled adolescence, Steven manages to make his way through a university named as a top party school during his tenure, and eventually finds work in theatre. As you may have gathered from the title and subject matter, The White Chip also charts his gradual downfall.

Formulated as a three-hander in which Steven is flanked by two performers cycling through the many characters he meets along the way, Daniels’ storytelling primarily takes the form of an extended monologue, not unlike the lengthy “rock bottom” stories we’ve seen countless characters share in fictional AA meetings. His writing lets us see the positive aspects of the character without making him too endearing, too much like someone we’d want to emulate – charming and funny as the monologue makes him, a sense of desperation progressively oozes into his words, and Daniels shows a real knack for delicate but gut-wrenching twists.

Ashlee irish and Mara Allen handle the multi-rolling well, moving setpieces and swapping in and out of roles so that the leading man can continue to engage directly with his audience. Each has some strong moments of both comedic and dramatic performance, but Allen becomes more memorable with a strong turn as Steven’s mother – like Sean Daniels’ own mother, Steven’s is revealed to her son as being a year into recovery when he attempts to reconnect early in his own journey. In this revelation, the character moves from an abrasive if amusing parent to a more fully-formed, genuinely compassionate role before our eyes.

Doing so much with what seems like so little, designer Lee Newby adds to an impressive track record here. With simply a handful of balloons, stacked chairs, a table on wheels and the image of a Sobriety Coin – made before our eyes by Irish and Allen using masking tape and chalk – Newby effectively combines the difficult memories contained in Steven’s monologue with the empty, imposing hall in which he is likely delivering it. Jamie Platt’s lighting adds to this effect, the moments where the chip is presented harshly, almost excessively lit to simulate not only the environment of these meetings, but how frighteningly seen the members must feel.

The script features a single moment repeated several times, in the actual awarding of the white chip to Steven. We are not, however, coming back to his memory of the moment, but being shown the multiple times he made that real commitment only to succumb to urges and habits which had shaped his life. This growing sense of desperation and of desire to do better is played masterfully by Ed Coleman, who matches the text in gradually letting more and more of his effortless charm slip away, giving us a clearer and clearer view of the damaged soul underneath. Delivered with such compassion and urgency, Coleman’s work is utterly arresting.

Matt Ryan, director for this new production, has done masterful work with the material, carrying out Daniels’ history and vision with the care and consideration warranted. He keeps a sense of constant motion around Coleman, with Irish and Allen forever moving from place to place, from role to role, from moment to moment, creating an idea of ever-changing circumstances around Steven as he tries to find something to ground him. Despite the plentiful amount of comedy contained in Sean Daniels’ script, Matt Ryan manages to keep the gravity and severity of the matter in focus – indeed, some moments where Steven shot for a joke were met, by design, with a painful silence.

A delicate and impactful approach to painful and challenging themes, The White Chip is an earnest, emotionally bare piece of theatre, presented here in a wonderfully honest production. Seeing it for myself, I now find it unsurprising that the likes of Broadway’s Annaleigh Ashford, TV mainstay Hank Azaria, and the late Matthew Perry have been involved as producers throughout the show’s short history. This is a wonderful example of what art can be – impactful, entertaining, and introducing new and deeper understanding to its audience.

The White Chip plays at Southwark Playhouse Borough until August 16th

For tickets and information visit https://southwarkplayhouse.co.uk/productions/the-white-chip/

Photos by Danny Kaan