Review: (the) Woman (Park Theatre)

Review by Lily Melhuish

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Let’s be honest, writing about motherhood is a minefield. It’s personal, political, and painfully subjective. Jane Upton’s (the) Woman doesn’t just step into that minefield, it charges through it, waving a flag that reads, “this is my truth.” And while that truth is impressively raw and comprehensive, it’s also tangled in a structure that at times feels more like a therapy exercise than a piece of theatre.

  The play follows M, a new mother and award-winning writer, as she tries to claw back some semblance of her creative identity in the wake of childbirth. Bound by societal pressures and the mundaneness of reality, M endeavours to expose the harsh realities of parenthood, without the Instagram filter.

Angharad Jones’ slick direction, supported by a flexible set by Sara Perks, allows us to whizz through years of life including childbirth, career crises, and marital spats, with dreamlike ease. The supporting cast are excellent, slipping between characters with precision and playfulness. And the projections, chapter headings with punchy one-liners, are an effective touch to support the narrative structure. Lizzy Watts is electric in the role of M, radiating the kind of manic energy that only a mother who hasn’t slept for at least three days can truly embody. It’s the wired alertness born from pure exhaustion that influences the structure of the play as it mirrors her state of mind: chaotic, fragmented, and emotionally overloaded.

But here’s the rub: the play is so twisted in its own meta-framework, a play about writing a play, that it never quite lets the story breathe. M’s unrelenting stream of consciousness isn’t just a leaky tap; it’s the bath, the shower, and the kitchen sink all left running until the house floods and you forget what caused the mess in the first place.

The dialogue supplied by Upton is undeniably sharp and witty, and the talented cast grab the opportunity with both hands. M’s greatest defence is her ability to keep the audience laughing, an important quality to add light to her often savage honesty and narcissistic temperament. But as the play barrels forward, M’s inner monologue remains relentless, poetically described by her own husband as “machine gun fire”. It leaves little room for anyone else in this war of one.

When we do get those other voices, a fellow mother, a weary husband, a bemused ex, the play opens up. It becomes richer, more complex. One scene in particular, where two mothers try to connect over shared trauma, is devastating. It’s a reminder that sometimes, telling your own story is more powerful than trying to speak for everyone. If only Upton had trusted that instinct more. Instead, the play keeps insisting it’s about all mothers, when it’s clearly about one. And that’s okay! As her agent says in the play, it’s a “messy, autobiographical splurge”, and the more the script tries to disguise that, the more obvious it becomes.

(the) Woman isn’t just about motherhood, it’s about identity, failure, and the crushing weight of potential. It’s about the bitterness that creeps in when life turns out to be more ordinary than you were promised. Not everyone gets the penthouse or the BAFTA. So, what do you do with all that ambition when you’re stuck in the day-to-day?

The play tries to answer that, sometimes beautifully, sometimes clumsily. One of the later scenes, where M reads aloud a letter describing the traumatic birth of her second child, is stunning. It’s stripped of irony; just raw, lyrical honesty. And it works. But then we’re yanked back into a scene with her commissioners, where past moments are explained, defended, and ultimately flattened. We’re told what to think, how to feel; the very thing M has resisted all along.

When (the) Woman stops trying to be a manifesto and just is, it’s powerful. But when it tries to be a beacon for all womankind, it buckles under the weight of its own ambition.

(the) Woman plays at the Park Theatre until October 25th

For tickets and information visit https://parktheatre.co.uk/events/the-woman/

Photos by Charlie Flint