Review: LOW LEVEL PANIC, Orange Tree Theatre

It's 30 years since Clare McIntyre's Low Level Panic premiered at the Royal Court. It focuses on a snapshot in the lives of three flatmates: Mary has found a pornographic magazine in the bin and wants to talk about it; Jo is in the bath, wondering how her life would be if she were that bit taller and slimmer; and Celia just wants to light a candle and get away from them both.

Chelsea Walker's revival shows that little has changed for many women since the play was written; their concerns about porn, sex, their bodies and how society sees them remain relevant and current.

In essence, the piece has nothing new to say, but that's the point. Women fret about what to wear to a party as much as they ever did, girls living together will always congregate in and argue about the use of the bathroom, and the 'low level panic' felt by the characters in the play is still felt today. Does wearing a skirt invite unwanted attention? Does porn make all women objects to men? Is the only body ideal to be tall, beautiful and thin?

Much of the evening is focused around conversations between the girls, as they get ready for a party and try to recover afterwards. However, it's some of the soliloquies that are the strongest in terms of writing and performance. Jo reveals how awful she feels about her own sexual fantasies as they are so removed from her own reality, and Mary relives a sexual assault with chilling realism. These particular scenes are believable, relatable and brave. However, the section where Mary recalls climbing up a large adverting hoarding is slightly bizarre.

Katherine Pearce is wonderfully natural as mouthy and gregarious Jo. Seemingly tough and wanting to embrace life, she actually wants to do it as someone else entirely. It is a performance entirely without vanity; shaving her armpits in the bath comes second to her sweat patches after dancing at a party and spitting toothpaste as she speaks. It's a performance refreshing in its honesty and Pearce clearly revels in the opinionated and incredibly funny role.

Sophie Melville sums up her character Mary with her line "I'm just a thing to fuck". Feeling objectified, damaged and wary, her performance is strongest as she recalls the past assault. Her body tenses and shakes, her voice alters and the fear comes off her like steam.

On press night, the two girls began the play in slightly hyper mode, with the conversation sounding over-rehearsed at first, but they quickly settled into a more natural rhythm. There is convincing chemistry between them and that easy feeling of friends who have known each other for years.

Gary Naylor's recent article on why women are shortchanged in the theatre highlights how underwritten so many women's parts appear in comparison with most male roles. Here we have a play written by a woman, directed and designed by women and featuring only women, but still one part of this three-hander feels markedly underdeveloped.

Samantha Pearl works well with what she is given as Celia, but serves little purpose other than to remind the audience of the nightmare of living with a shared bathroom. She does not act as a counterpoint to either of the other girls, nor does she have any sort of story to tell. The intimacy we feel with Mary and Jo is totally lacking with Celia, simply because it is not created in the script.

Designer Rosanna Vize has worked very creatively with a set that recreates the 1980s world of avocado bathroom suites, ghetto blasters playing Madonna cassettes and the use of a vintage Razzle magazine are lovely touches. The set works from every side, with glass screens used for windows, walls and doors. This gives the play a slightly voyeuristic feel, as though the audience is eavesdropping on the girls' conversation by peering through the glass.

This is a funny, courageous and sobering revival of a play that deserves renewed attention.

Low Level Panic is at the Orange Tree Theatre until 25 March

Photo Credit: Helen Murray