Camden Fringe becomes the right springboard for Aurelia Gage’s paramount play about the lesser known history of Irish women.
Unmarried women expecting a child always seem to be one of the Catholic Church's biggest concerns. Never mind that Mary was technically only pledged in marriage to Joseph after the Holy Spirit worked its magic on the poor girl.
It's relatively easy to rationalise the ecclesiastical historical crimes perpetrated by Popes and the lot, so crusades, executions, and witch trials, whilst remaining unforgivable, have entered our cultural heritage. The Roman Church, however, hasn't gotten any better over time, and the silencing of rape victims, pedophelic priests, and the ever-present homophobia are only some of the sins they should be addressing.
Cut to Ireland, 1922. A brand new facility to provide refuge and help to single expecting mothers and their babies opens in Cork, Bessborough Mother and Baby Home. Owned and operated by the Congregation of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and Mary, it was a horror house for many until its dismantling in 1999 - 22 years ago.
In close to eight decades, 9,768 "fallen women" entered the home and were abused and mistreated, while 8,938 children were born or brought up there. Of the latter, it's thought that 600 were buried in unmarked graves on the grounds. We can't even say it's a dark chapter in Catholic history because the whole thing is pitch black!
Aurelia Gage sets Sisters of Charity against this brutal landscape of mistreatments and injustice. When Janine (Chloe Taplin) joins the mothers held at Bessborough, she's made to share a room with the submissive Maggie (Gage), who becomes the target of her frustration due to her closeness and reticence to open up.
Directed by Adelina Uglow, the Sisters are a silent, unseen presence and the pair are essentially abused - verbally and physically - by ghosts. The inhumane conditions of the site seep through conversations and remarks as they return to their beds exhausted day after day.
As Janine's pregnancy becomes more evident and her treatment gets worse, Maggie's mystery grows until the girls share a very tender and heartbreaking moment. All the tidbits given until that point come together like puzzle pieces to reveal her backstory, shining a light on the house of horrors.
The play is pervaded by a sense of sadness. The women are made to pay for their sins by suffering. Their penitence is turned into strenuous work from cleaning to helping in the delivery room even whilst heavily pregnant.
A subdued piece of theatre that works with details rather than explanations, Sisters of Charity's vulnerable and personal approach and circular motion address over seven decades of pain in one short hour. Gage's writing is delicate and precise; the slow burn that hints at the disturbing bigger picture but never falls into intricate commentary that would weigh it down.
She lets her characters speak for themselves, framing them into a prison-style accommodation that's as bare as its residents are stripped of their rights. Yet, even in the visual stillness of the scenes, she succeeds in creating vibrant dialogue.
Camden Fringe is the right springboard for Gage's paramount play about the lesser known history of Irish women.
Sisters of Charity runs at the Lion & Unicorn Theatre until 7 August.
Image credit: Charlotte Hicks
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