Playwright Eve Ruck’s thesis that the role of lesbians as advocates, allies and activists at the height of the AIDS crisis is under-explored is a sound one. With the exception of the character of Estelle in Larry Kramer’s furious and seminal 1985 The Normal Heart, most theatrical works that confront the AIDS epidemic are male-centred. Although the 1993 medical thriller film of Randy Shilts 1987 non-fiction book, And the Band Played On, relies on the political heft and force of personality of Lily Tomlin’s Dr Selma Dritz to break infuriating deadlocks in confronting the disease, and Tony Kusner’s magnificent Angels in America very much centres a maternal figure (Mother Pitt, whose Mormon, Republican son is the lover of Louis who leaves his lover, Prior, dying) – even in these fine works, the love lives, backstories and deeper motivations of these women to throw themselves into the crisis are largely left untouched. Indeed, Russel T Davies’ Jill Baxter of It’s a Sin is much-admired and wonderful social glue – but who is she really? Mathew Lopez’s much-lauded 2-part epic The Inheritance also features all all-male cast, save the singular character of Margaret (played exquisitely by Vanessa Redgrave in the 2018 London debut) who is a formerly homophobic mother changed by grief. Ruck is right to want to mine the important territory of what it meant to be a lesbian during the early days of the AIDS crisis and their role in confronting its horrors – be they political, practical or parental.
Where Ruck’s play needs more work sits within her own thesis. In order to mine this territory properly, she needs to develop, boldly, a fully-fledged lesbian character who may appear altruistic and saintly but who, as a human, is as complex and confused as everyone else on stage. It makes sense that Eve has to navigate fringe practicalities with a single room setting – indeed such claustrophobia could be a powerful device as those inside tell each other of what’s outside, with only Eunice (Catherine Grimhilde) ‘free’ to leave and yet compelled to stay. It’s here, however, where the natural passions of investigation and advocacy occlude the fundamental dramaturgy Ruck needs to embrace for her next iteration of this early work.
We get hints of a departed lover who was ‘even saintlier’ than Eunice. This is intriguing and the symmetry of Jean-Micheal’s (Tom Homer) tales of love, coming out and familial rejection offer a promising structure and contrast. But the stakes are too low, the chat too gentle and the feeling that there is a world beyond these walls not vivid enough to grab us by the throats and compel us to invest emotionally. Jean-Micheal is somewhat bemused by Eunice’s presence but, in his loneliness is happy for her company – this isn’t revelatory stuff. What we don’t see is any surprising or counter-stereotype drives in either character. Likewise, the doctor (Edmund Smith) starts with comic, near-farcical potential, as a symbol of no one really knowing what is going on or how to handle it, but sort of peters out as just a vaguely naïve pretty nice guy. If Ruck wants to write a comedy, she should lean into the obvious and grab farce with both hands. The limitations of fringe shouldn’t prevent her and director Alan Magor from creating a more imposing image than a single medical face-mask to convey separation, stigma and dehumanisation. If she wants to write a character-centred drama, Ruck needs to do more work on who these people are and what their conflicts and moments of irreversible change are. I was intrigued that Ruck originally had a TV pilot in mind and I am not sure if she has ridden herself of those habits yet. If this work is to live fully on the stage, it needs to remember there will be no close-ups so the tension is going to have to come from words, actions and images. They can be broad and dramatic even in a small space over a pub. Or they can be cold and aloof with a sense of disquiet and menace. But they can’t be televisual. She dabbles with certain key images (tea pot, sunflowers) but, without sufficient rooting in the characters’ needs or plot, they come across as tacked-on or out of genre – if she wants to lean into archetypes, absurdity, mystery or ghost stores, she should lean ALL THE WAY IN.
For a two-night stand at the brand-new fringe festival, North-Sapph Fest, competing head-to-head with Edinburgh, Ruck (and her director Alan Magor) have shown courage in mounting this production. The use of disembodied and distorted political voices of the time give a political edge but doesn’t quite bite hard enough at the contrast within the walls of the hospital room. Is Eunice turning into ‘mother’ in a safe space in contrast to the anti- or pseudo-mother of Thatcher? Or are these recordings just locating us in a time and place with some ambience? What is the confrontation with Jean-Micheal’s biological mother – does Ruck want her to be an actual off-stage character brought to life through the impressions of Eunice? Is Eunice jealous of her and opportunistically keen to supplant her (which would make her more interesting) or is the actual mother just a device for reminding us that many families turned their back on their children at this horrible time? The latter is journalism and not theatre.
Shall I be Mother? is built on interesting territory but needs to develop its theatrical purpose and intensity to explore more fully this rich and under-mined topic. As a work-in-progress it shows promise but isn’t all the way there yet. Keep going!
