Reality a bitter pill to swallow
WHEN you enter the theatre, Bo Petersen is splayed in front of a hissing TV, intent on slowly pushing pills around a tray.
A frantic knock on the door fails to rouse her, and even when a woman barges in, the older woman’s response is noncommittal.
It turns out that the younger woman is Issy (Rodin), seeking refuge in her parents’ home because her husband has hit her for the last time. Issy tries to engage her mother, clearly wanting money to finish a course that will turn her into a millionaire.
But the empty state of the house tells Issy there is no money because her mother has sold everything. Although the stage is cluttered with paraphernalia, it is stuff such as loose cushions and odd things that no one would get any money for and drugs – the copious amount of pill containers attract both women, who pop pills indiscriminately.
As the play progresses, you realise how similar the two women are – they talk right over each other, each living in a fantasy world in which they still enjoy the lifestyle they used to have.
Mom’s habit of singing: “Princess Isabella with the white umbrella,” is a reminder that the young woman was spoilt as a child and still expects the world to centre on her, while mom was complicit in creating this viewpoint.
The production is a testament to Rademeyer’s skill as a director in the way he teases out finely drawn performances from Petersen and Rodin, and keeps the audience focused on their dysfunctional relationship when, really, there is a white elephant in the room that needs explaining. David Cornwell’s script drops huge hints about what the thing is they just won’t talk about and when it finally comes charging out, you sit there with your hand over your mouth.
Petersen’s physical appearance, tattered in the first half and a overly made-up tart in the second, gives her character an edge of pathos that keeps one oddly fascinated. She plays a character much older than her natural self and does so convincingly.
Rodin adds pluck to her character that makes you root for her, even if you want to shake her and say: “Wake up, it’s a scam, you are never going to be a millionaire. Try looking after your mother instead.”