Review: ESCAPED ALONE, Royal Court

A year after its first run, Caryl Churchill's Escaped Alone returns to the Royal Court. This rather strange play is split between garden chit-chat and apocalyptic horrors, though directly juxtaposing or linking Churchill's two worlds seems naively simplistic. Its dual settings do lead to an odd overall effect; while individual moments shine, the piece as a whole seems stilted.

Miriam Buether and Peter Mumford's immensely effective set and lighting design sweep the audience into suburbia before the play has even begun. The visual effect of the set's sky is striking, almost dazzling in its use of light, which makes the play's plunges into darkness all the more dramatic. The apocalyptic world is delivered purely through monologues, performed by Linda Bassett, and these are lit by a more basic, exterior set; the wiggles of red-lit wire are reminiscent of some experimental laboratory. The contrast is reminiscent of the Royal Court's own The Nether or the National Theatre's Frankenstein.

Bassett lifts Churchill's script from its pages with tremendous - but never forced - character. When in scenes with the rest of the cast, she is intriguing. Her Mrs Jarrett seems to contain multitudes of unexpressed thoughts and intentions, then seems to say far too much when delivering her unpalatable monologues. The first of these begins: "[f]our hundred thousand tons of rock paid for by the senior executives split off the hillside to smash through the roofs, each fragment onto the designated child's head."

Alongside such disturbing material, though, are moments of huge wit. During great hunger, the "obese sold slices of themselves" and when pets rained from the sky, "[a] kitten became famous". The conversation in the garden also shines with both light and more sinister comedy. At one point, Mrs Jarrett's monologues are separated merely by a cast sing-through of "Da Doo Ron Ron"; though this continues for too long, it is a lovely moment of union for four characters who are all uniquely disturbed.

This disturbances are belied by their own monologues with the garden scene - one woman fears cats, another kitchens (following the fantastically delivered revelation that she once killed her husband in their kitchen); another finds herself crippled by the world in general.

With fantastic realism, Churchill's dialogue hints at these problems with humorous jibes. The women say what they really feel and then backtrack, having said too much. Deborah Findlay is a master of this social observation, and Kika Markham's gentle responses - and gentle soul throughout - are quite heartbreaking. The cast is completed by June Watson's robust and forthright presence, which serves to make her vulnerability all the more affecting. It is encouraging to see four experienced actresses take such ownership of the stage; in a rare stage direction, Churchill states that they must all be at least 70.

Overall, director James MacDonald has done a wonderful job here. That said, Churchill's fragmented approach, of interesting moments rather than a cohesive whole, is bound to be divisive; it is somehow incomplete or perhaps refreshing. Opinions on this play will be wholly subjective. I suggest the value of talented direction, performance and design far exceed the piece itself - watch out for what these creatives turn to next.

Escaped Alone at the Royal Court until 11 February

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