Woman in Mind West End Reviews

Susan is a lonely woman, yearning for affection and purpose, but Smith also presents her sharper edges; her meaner comments have harsh acidity. Always a performer to bring every emotion to a role, Smith shows a gradual mental disintergration, becomin...

Susan is a lonely woman, yearning for affection and purpose, but Smith also presents her sharper edges; her meaner comments have harsh acidity. Always a performer to bring every emotion to a role, Smith shows a gradual mental disintergration, becoming increasingly fractious as she grapples with what is real and what is fantasy. Her movements become more uncontrolled and her voice increasingly tinged with desperation.

Revived in its 40th anniversary year, the play stands the test of time for its originality and boldness: this is a critique of the emptiness of married life and the desperation that a woman feels inside it that takes us from the domestic drudge to hi...

Revived in its 40th anniversary year, the play stands the test of time for its originality and boldness: this is a critique of the emptiness of married life and the desperation that a woman feels inside it that takes us from the domestic drudge to high-wire supernaturalism. When it works, it is unnerving. The imaginary family is creepy for its wooden perfection and performative warmth. You feel the chill building as they turn into nightmarish tormentors.

Not so long ago, Smith wrongfooted her fans in the misfiring musical-cum-psychodrama, Opening Night, a portrait of another woman on the edge. This drama is even more audacious. It’s so cheering to see the West End can still take risks, and even mor...

Not so long ago, Smith wrongfooted her fans in the misfiring musical-cum-psychodrama, Opening Night, a portrait of another woman on the edge. This drama is even more audacious. It’s so cheering to see the West End can still take risks, and even more encouraging to know that Smith and co will be taking the play out of London, albeit briefly, after the run finishes.

As Susan, her emotions are always bubbling beneath the surface: in the ‘real’ scenes, she is buttoned up, foot tapping, eyes drifting around the room; in her imagined sequences she grins dreamily, bathed in Lee Curran’s warm lighting, and memor...

As Susan, her emotions are always bubbling beneath the surface: in the ‘real’ scenes, she is buttoned up, foot tapping, eyes drifting around the room; in her imagined sequences she grins dreamily, bathed in Lee Curran’s warm lighting, and memorably gives herself over to the fantasy during an ecstatic rainstorm. Smith often appears to be on the edge of both tears and laughter, but her vulnerability is truly laid bare as the show’s hallucinatory quality turns sickly during a bonkers, nightmarish denouement.

It’s a brilliantly conceived idea, and often very funny. The joke about Muriel’s inedible cooking – “There was talk of a dessert and I am afraid I lost my nerve,” says Bill, explaining his sudden absence – becomes a symbol of the lumpy, u...

It’s a brilliantly conceived idea, and often very funny. The joke about Muriel’s inedible cooking – “There was talk of a dessert and I am afraid I lost my nerve,” says Bill, explaining his sudden absence – becomes a symbol of the lumpy, unedifying nature of the life in which Susan is trapped, where she no longer loves her husband and the best he can manage in return is “I’m still reasonably fond of you.” Ayckbourn’s writing straddles the line between light laughter and domestic trauma with considerable finesse, but the second act darkens as Susan’s desperation rises and even her other life no longer provides the escape she longs for.

I think my biggest problem is that with her amusingly preposterous sister in law Muriel (Louise Brealey) and son Rick (Taylor Uttley) freshly escaped from a cult, Susan’s ‘real’ life is so overegged that it’s scarcely any less ludicrous than ...

I think my biggest problem is that with her amusingly preposterous sister in law Muriel (Louise Brealey) and son Rick (Taylor Uttley) freshly escaped from a cult, Susan’s ‘real’ life is so overegged that it’s scarcely any less ludicrous than her imagined one. And while that may possibly be the idea (although I don’t think it actually is the idea) it’s difficult to see what the play is really saying about her. She’s a middle-aged woman who has been left behind by the real world and has instead embraced one conjured by her subconscious. But it never really takes the time to slow down and properly explore loneliness, middle aged sexuality, or even mental health. There is something melancholic and Chekhovian at its core, but it’s deep, deep beneath the surface, obscured by an all consuming conceptual glamour.

The play puts Susan through the physical and mental wringer and it works thanks to Smith. She has a uniquely vivid physical presence, and her emotions are shimmeringly close to the surface. It’s great to see her back on stage again after the unfort...

The play puts Susan through the physical and mental wringer and it works thanks to Smith. She has a uniquely vivid physical presence, and her emotions are shimmeringly close to the surface. It’s great to see her back on stage again after the unfortunate debacle of 2024’s Opening Night, where she was again required to fall apart. Maybe next time she could play a character who isn’t – to quote the Patsy Cline song played before curtain-up – Crazy.

Still, it feels that Ayckbourn is ultimately more interested in the creative possibilities of madness than in probing too deeply into its underlying causes. Susan eventually dreams up a whole wedding (which is assumed to be the summit of female happi...

Still, it feels that Ayckbourn is ultimately more interested in the creative possibilities of madness than in probing too deeply into its underlying causes. Susan eventually dreams up a whole wedding (which is assumed to be the summit of female happiness in this play) that descends into a nightmarish horse race, in a finale that canters away from exploring her inner world, rather than towards it.