BWW Reviews: HAPPY ENDING, Arcola Theatre, February 2 2015

In Christopher Nolan's first feature film, Following, a thief explains that he is actually doing his victims a favour - for it is only when people have their things taken away from them that they understand their true value. Of course, nothing is more precious than life itself - so what happens when cancer is the thief with life its quarry?

That is the set-up for Anat Gov's last play, Happy Ending (continuing at the Arcola Theatre until 7 March) and it's one that many of us will face. (Ironically, as medical science improves our chances of surviving so many other illnesses, it increases our chances of a rendezvous with the Big C.) The late Ms Gov (who died in the claws of the terrible crab in 2012 aged just 58) wants us to meet the disease head-on, fear it not and take control back from cancer's relentless march. Few would argue that she fails, her posthumous message brimming over with life - she has, after all, been there, seen it and done it.

Three women are undergoing chemotherapy in a London hospital. Miki (Karen Archer) is looking for the esoteric remedies that her hippy lifestyle has always found comforting; Sarah (Thea Beyleveld) draws on her Jewish faith for the strength to fight; and Silvia (Andrea Miller) has survived worse than cancer and is hardly going to give up now. They chat and squabble and rub along, united by their medical histories. Until Carrie (Gillian Kirkpatrick) arrives, a glamorous actress who wants to keep her condition secret and knows nothing of its extent. Naturally, the new kid on the block soon antagonises the established trio and duels with her insensitive but committed doctor (Oliver Stoney), as she comes to terms not just with her illness, but with her treatment.

After a slow start, the play picks up with some splendid song and dance routines that are part hallucination and part externalising of inner thoughts (think "The Singing Detective"). There's plenty of laughs too once the characters are properly established. But it's in the closing 20 minutes of the play that Ms Gov's writing becomes raw and moving, with the patients and the doctor arguing about the right way to retain one's humanity in the face of this most inhumane of diseases. There are speeches, but no preaching, and we care about these people because the excellent performances have convinced us that they are real, just like me and you, but caught in the headlights of an oncoming juggernaut.

This funny, heartfelt, heatbreaking play cracks open a taboo subject and shows that attitudes towards cancer vary as much as cancer itself. It shows how well-meaning bureaucracy can push patients into places where their own views seem the least important. It also entertains, the comedy bittersweet, the songs catchy and clever, the characters just on the right side of caricatures. Most of all, it takes into an uncomfortable place, but a necessary one. I'll be grateful for that one day.

Photo Piers Foley

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