Review: NOT YOUR SUPERWOMAN, Bush Theatre

Not Your Superwoman has already sold out its entire run, which is pretty unusual for an Off West End play. It’s less surprising, however, when you consider the combined star power of actors Golda Rosheuvel and Letitia Wright, and outgoing Bush Artistic Director Lynette Linton. In this play, co-created by Linton and writer Emma Dennis-Edwards, it’s easy to see how each of them have risen to fame – and how richly their success is deserved.

The play follows mother and daughter Joyce (Rosheuvel) and Erica (Wright), who we meet as they get ready to board a flight to Guyana. They’re headed back to scatter the ashes of Joyce’s mother and Erica’s grandmother, Elaine, in the places that meant the most to her. In a story that flickers between the present day and each of the women’s memories, Linton and Dennis-Edwards paint a portrait of a family defined by generational cycles, but seeking to mend their breaks.

Rosheuvel and Wright are a firecracker duo. Wright is effortlessly funny, easily shapeshifting between each of the three women and building Erica into a character we really root for, through emotional highs and lows. Meanwhile, Rosheuvel has the opportunity to showcase an exuberance and vivacity that feels miles from her Bridgerton role. She’s a truly magnetic performer, winning over the audience completely within only a few lines.

The pair have potent, relatable chemistry, playing not only their respective characters but each other’s, and that of matriarch Elaine. In each combination, the dynamic is believable and well-crafted, with credit also going to voice and accent coach Hazel Holder. 

In its first few scenes especially, Not Your Superwoman is remarkably funny. Dennis-Edwards writes with a wry knowledge of mothers and daughters, Caribbean families, and generational differences, picking out tiny details that will speak to audience members of different backgrounds. In an early highlight, Erica tries to explain rappers Central Cee and Dave, before her mother asks "Dave? Dave who you went to sixth form with?".

It’s moments like these that illustrate Dennis-Edwards’ ability to capture a mother-daughter dynamic that will be relatable to audiences of all ages and backgrounds, as Erica's therapy speak and choice to 'reevaluate her relationship with alcohol' comes up against Joyce's money-first mentality and evergreen desire to get wine-drunk in Business Class. Both central characters are painted with empathy and understanding, meaning no matter what generation you belong to, you see parts of yourself in them. 

It’s in the central mother-daughter dynamic that Dennis-Edwards writing is at its strongest. She also shines in the detail of many of the parallels depicted, with vignettes of the past mirroring present struggles and unpicking why Joyce and Erica have found themselves drifting apart despite their similarities.

However, around two thirds of the way in, the play does lose its rhythm slightly – the past takes up too much time, and scenes of anguish and argument go on for too long without light and shade. Some of the moments of conflict border on melodrama, and escalate without build-up. This also leaves the ending of Not Your Superwoman feeling less impactful than it could have done: the production gets somewhat lost in itself in the final scenes, with several moments feeling like an end before the final blackout. 

Visually and technically, this is a show that feels designed with a West End transfer in mind. Set, lighting, and video team Alex Berry, Jai Morjaria, and Gino Ricardo Green use silhouettes, mesh screens, blurred backgrounds, and bright colours to build an ambitious visual world. One particular moment with a lineup of women’s shadows stands out as excellent, while joyous moments of dance are brought to life with vibrant lights that make them feel larger than life. The vivid sights and smells of Guyana feel almost tangible, with great contributions from Max Pappenheim and XANA’s sound and music work. In all, the design is ambitious and smart throughout, even if it sometimes errs on the side of too much or too literal. 

Linton’s direction, meanwhile, is slick and skilled, dealing deftly with all the shifts between different time frames. She really shines in the bigger and bolder moments, with some transitions and uses of chairs feeling a little cliche, but overall manages to craft a production that feels large-scale and event-like in what is quite an intimate space.

Not Your Superwoman puts Black women at the centre of its story, while still maintaining a relatability that will hit home for all kinds of audiences. It’s not a perfect production, but with two winning central performances, a smart script, and an exciting visual world, it’s another hit for the Bush. 

Not Your Superwoman runs at the Bush Theatre (Main Space) until 1 November.