Review: THE MEMORY OF WATER, Hampstead Theatre

Memories are fickle things. We rehearse them, we shape them, and we eventually forget the original events and end up making new ones, filling the gaps with our experience of them rather than the actual occurrences. It's the core concept of Shelagh Stephenson's multi-awarded play, The Memory of Water. Premiered in 1996 on the Hampstead Theatre stage, it went on to win an Olivier in 2000, debut in the States, tour internationally, and even landed on the big screen in 2002 titled Before You Go directed by Lewis Gilbert.

25 years after its first outing and many memories later, the play's come back home directed by Hampstead regular Alice Hamilton. Teresa (Lucy Black), Mary (Laura Rogers), and Catherine (Carolina Main) gather together after their mother Vi's death. As they wait for her funeral, their constant sisterly bickering brings to the surface the contrasting recollections of their younger years.

Slowly, a rocky relationship is uncovered. Everyone has a different view rooted in their own reality. Catherine blurts out that she doesn't like their mum because, in turn, she disliked her, the others dispute it. Teresa believes Mary was being coddled too much by everyone in the family for some reason, and the latter is excruciatingly critical of her older sister.

They are, however, on the same page regarding their late father, who never said a word about anything and relentlessly cheated on their mother. Their ties are strong and this love/hate relationship makes for a terrifically gripping show. They're complicated women, as solid as they come; it's a joy to see Black, Rogers, and Main interact as the trio.

Stephenson aims a magnifying lens at how such an intense bond deals under vast amounts of grief and pain. There's so much tragedy hidden under the coat of comedy the playwright gives the story, which is genuinely funny. The three women, along with Teresa's husband Frank (Kulvinder Ghir) and Mary's boyfriend Mike (Adam James) engage in a tight battle of dark funerary humour, perhaps to cope with the actual cause why they're all together.

While the situation forces the central characters to act like adults (there's a wreath to be chosen and other details still need arranging), they slip back into the set roles they carry since they were little. Choosing what to do with Vi's clothes becomes a dress-up game, while on multiple occasions their actions and quips are so puerile they perfectly mimic real-life siblings.

Designer Anna Reid, another regular at the venue, finally makes her main stage debut. She creates a stunning set that, as per her trademark, is elegant and refined with a touch of unexpected. A classy retro bedroom is the centrepiece; mirrored wardrobes surrounding the huge bed, while a dressing table and an ottoman bookend the room. Up above, the heavens: thick stormy clouds with a John Constable look to them hover over the scene splitting the space halfway.

The mirrors play with Joanna Town's lighting design, creating intriguing shapes on the floor during pivotal moments in the show, which adds visual drama too. Even after a quarter of a century after its conception, The Memory of Water remains poignant. Perhaps it's because it displays, at its very core, a profound understanding of human nature; or because every family has secrets. It's the giggle at a funeral that creates a brief ripple of laughter through the mourners.

The Memory of Water runs at Hampstead Theatre until 16 October.

Photo credit: Helen Murray

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