Theater Review by Walter Murphy . . .
Dealing with grief is never easy. Especially if it comes unexpectedly and brings with it overflowing emotional, familial and professional baggage. Such is the case with Kelly Jones’s My Mother’s Funeral: The Show, now playing at the SoHo Playhouse as part of the Fringe Encore Series. Ms. Jones crafts a moving story of humor, pathos, and sadness that is British and universal. Everyone has a mum.
Abigail (Abs), a budding playwright, learns in short order of her mother’s death, cancellation of a commissioned work, and funeral sticker shock. She finds herself in dire financial trouble. Her mother had been her personal and artistic supporter. Abs is also on the outs with her brother. It’s said that people are only given what they can handle but, jeez, give a girl a break before she has a nervous breakdown.
With virtually no financial help from her brother and other relatives, Abs tries to write a solution by receiving an advance on a new play that she must complete in 14 days—the length of time the hospital keeping her mum’s body allows before releasing it for “council” burial. This option is viewed as undignified, and allowing it to happen would be seen as a failure to do the right thing by her mother.
The director of the theater, who previously canceled Abs’ commission, agrees to allow her to pitch a new play if it is more in tune with what he believes donors and audiences want to see. This sets up the play’s action, as Abs tries to write a story about her mum while grieving, and she must grudgingly incorporate the numerous “notes” given by the director and an actor who would be playing mum. It is a struggle and tense.
Her brother Darren, who has a different father, is unable to help financially. He left his mum’s care while young. Not the caring son to their shared mum, he disagrees with Abs’ funeral decision but does offer some support initially. He eventually softens and reveals his feelings of abandonment by his mum. Still, Abs has the weight of the wake upon her shoulders. She takes on an insurmountable task and desperation intensifies as probability fades.
What is remarkable about this 70-minute play is that it isn’t maudlin. There is humor and an abiding sense that all will end well, which becomes somewhat true. Baked into the play’s characters are British attitudes and references. For instance, negative allusions to “council” housing and services, posh accents, and working-class lifestyles (such as the notion that hamsters are working-class pets! —I didn’t know that. Nor did I ever consider that doves are just pigeons painted white. Who knew?)
The three-person cast performs like a well-drilled team, a testament to Charlotte Bennett’s direction. There are numerous scene changes as the story unfolds. It never becomes confusing as to which storyline is being performed. The actors move confidently about the small, sparse stage.
Nicole Sawyerr as Abigail captures the sadness and pain of someone just starting her adult life while losing the one person who taught her to believe in herself. She carries herself with a lightness that belies grit and determination. Throughout the challenging events, Abs embraces the wisdom of her mother: “Don’t confuse their version of your life for your own.” Through adversity, she finds acceptance and peace in her grief. A commanding, winning performance.
Samuel Armfield portrays two very different roles: Darren, and the director of the theater. He perfectly captures the artsy-fartsy posh patter of the director and then shifts seamlessly to a working-class dialect and less-than-genteel movements. Emotionally, his director portrayal is refined and repressed, while Darren wears his heart on his sleeve. Both portrayals are remarkable.
Accomplished actor Debra Baker takes on three, possibly four roles if you count her voiceovers. She is Abs’ mum, a funeral director, an actor who works on Abs’ developing play, and the voice of a hospital administrator. Wait, she was also a theater set designer and council administrator who arranges services. Busy. She is absolutely great in all these roles. I especially liked her glamour photo with Rod Stewart.
My Mother’s Funeral: The Show. Through January 25 at the SoHo Playhouse at the SoHo Playhouse (15 Vandam Street, between Sixth Avenue and Varick Street) as part of the Fringe Encore Series. www.sohoplayhouse.com
Photos: Nicola Young
