Review: HEART WALL, Bush Theatre

Franky is visiting her hometown for the first time in over a year. Dropping by the local boozer on a Friday night, between a pint and a song at the karaoke, she unlocks the memories she and her family have wanted so badly to forget. Meanwhile, while she not-so-silently judges her old friends for staying back in their tiny town and admonishes her parents for never achieving anything in their lives, she’s fighting her own existential doubts.

Kit Withington writes a lightweight exegesis of grief, briefly touching upon what it means to grow up and leave home. Technically speaking, there’s nothing wrong with Heart Wall. It’s just a tad too sprawling and prosaic. Withington makes a few good points in her reflection, and Katie Greenall tends to its directorial needs well. From the bittersweet aura as Franky mourns the loss of feeling at home to the harrowing realisation that you might have fallen behind in life, the play prods a dull ache in all of us.

Yet, it’s too full of platitudes and melancholy. The writing runs in bland circles, revealing little more than what we already know or suspect. The final blow doesn’t come as a surprise, even though it’s presented as such. The issue is, maybe, that the audience needs to be given slightly more credit.

The lack of communication between the characters seeps into the fabric of the piece, removing the chance for subtextual depth. It tries to excuse this dearth in complexity by introducing the roles merely as undemonstrative people. The result is a script that keeps hinting at the core problem without actually addressing it or its fallout until everything finally and forcefully surfaces.

It’s too obvious that Franky and her family behave a certain way because of what happened (no spoilers); Withington renders their inner strife plainly and without much subtlety. Franky uses her pet rabbit’s whereabouts as an excuse to stay longer and longer. Her dad takes extremely hot baths to essentially self-harm without arousing much suspicion. Her mum openly starts dating because she’s very unhappy in her marriage.

They’re a broken, complicated trio who don’t talk to one another. The parents go as far as telling their daughter that she should return to London ASAP not to disturb this precarious balance. The presence of a stronger emotional pull could draw all of this out powerfully, but Withington opts to simply give the facts as they are, reiterating an unfortunate apathy again and again.

She introduces a relatable brand of generalised dissatisfaction, disappointment, and disconnection, sharpening Franky’s words when necessary but hardly making them count in the long run. Too many loose ends remain by the end. Withington gives Franky and her father a melodramatic moment of forgiveness and expiation, but neglects the rest of her characters.

Big Coronation Street vibes strangle the whole thing, including a comic relief to lighten the load. Olivia Forrest is the mouthy, sardonic, utterly delightful Charlene and Aaron Anthony is Valentine, their lovely childhood friend who’s now managing the pub. Their friendship with Rowan Robinson’s Franky bears the weight of her complex situation.

Joining Robinson, Deka Walmsley and Sophie Stanton are a divided front as Franky’s parents. They bicker and hurt one another relentlessly, unafraid of implicating their offspring in their unhappiness. Their relationship is frustratingly real, but not exploited to its full potential. This is perhaps due to an evenness in the tone that ultimately makes the delivery of the themes rather static and unchallenging.

The piece, however, looks great. Designer Hazel Low builds a functioning pub, complete with karaoke screens and an ugly red carpet, while Simisola Majekodunmi’s lights isolate the action to move it across the various locations. While there aren’t any visual hints for these, Greenall exploits Withington’s writing to extrapolate its scenic movements. 

All in all, Heart Wall is alright, but could be better. It won’t drastically alter your worldview or pull your heart out or have you sob in any way, but it will tend to a specific twinge in your chest.

Heart Wall runs at the Bush Theatre until 16 May.