Review: BROKEN WATER, Arcola Theatre

Three women live parallel lives on the same London street. One desperately wants a baby, one regrets her choices, one is haunted by the past. Michèle Winstanley addresses motherhood and the female experience in a tender piece that becomes a sad reminder that, as women, we rarely fully win.

Though written way before it, it takes a strand of America Ferrera’s very popular Barbie monologue and turns it into a play that explores another angle of the tragedy of being a woman. From the dehumanising practices that surround our bodies and the arbitrary misconceptions around fertility, Broken Waters surprisingly maintains a positive outlook.

The characters are gifted with relentless hope and take every challenge on the chin. Winstanley takes on a horrific rape that resulted in deep-rooted trauma, a decision that altered the course of a life, and the restless longing for the most natural life event with smooth and stylish writing. Her work is, essentially, different monologues that interlock briefly before conjoining at the end to move from a liminal space into the real world. While it’s not the most creative of plans and the reasonings contained are relatively prototypical, it suits the show as a whole. 

Nicola Samer directs a frontal and quite static production that focuses on spoken action rather than physical movement. It’s an effective choice - nothing much happens in the text visually, after all. Intense moments of brutalist drama alternate with more touching looks into the intersection between being a woman and a mother. The three performers offer each other a constant flow of support, lovingly looking at the speakers from the sidelines as they shares their troubles. While there aren’t many idiosyncrasies in the tracks, Sarah Hadland, Rosemary Ashe, and Naomi Petersen give decisive portrayals. Their roles might err on universality instead of being fully formed individuals, but it works.

An intensely mutating performance by Hadland is definitely a highlight alongside the faded strength in Ashe’s Olive. Once Petersen relaxes into it, she’s equally determined in her delivery. They tackle the core issue from multiple directions, examining the often unfortunate clash between professional ambition and raising children, the damage caused by historical insulation and misogyny, and an array of modern societal pressures. It puts women centre-stage and allows them to break open freely and safely. 

Broken Water may not be an astoundingly original idea, but it’s urgently necessary. This programming rightfully rides the wave started by the recent spotlight on women’s stories and does it very well.

Broken Water runs at the Arcola Theatre until 24 February.

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