Theatre review: Conversations After Sex

Raw emotions and questionable nudity in a play about loss

⭑⭑⭑⭑

A woman and a man in conversation sitting on a bed
Olivia Lindsay and Julian Moore-Cook in Conversations After Sex. Photo: Jake Bush

Mark O’Halloran’s Conversations After Sex is about a woman throwing herself into 12 months of casual anonymous sex. Having won the Irish Times Best New Play Award, it is receiving its UK premiere at the Park90 Theatre. The intimate venue is ideal for watching such private conversations. The set is essentially a bed with a small amount of space around it, and the audience closing in on three sides.

There are something like twenty short scenes in which the character referred to as ‘She’ and played by Olivia Lindsay has just had casual sex and then chats with the man in question. Sometimes he is a returning lover, although even then they don’t know each other’s names; more often he’s a passing acquaintance. All are played by Julian Moore-Cook. There are occasional scenes, just as brief, between ‘She’ and her sister played by Jo Herbert.

It seems ‘She’ has engaged upon a series of one night stands after a traumatic event involving her partner, about which more is gradually revealed in the course of the play. The meaningless sex is a kind of self therapy, both a distraction and a way of moving on. I doubt it’s a form of therapy any counsellor would recommend but, over twelve months, she does reach some kind of understanding.

Despite the conversations being post-coital, they are rarely about sex. Nor do we see the sex that preceded them. We join them at the moment when the participants’ defences are down, thanks to both the anonymity of the liaison and the abandonment involved in sex. So, the men are inclined to be more honest than they might otherwise be, when they have an image to project and protect.

Julian Moore-Cook conveys the multiple male characters with great skill. Without the aid of costume changes, he goes from puppyish young man to emotional jilted boyfriend to self confident cheat. His face is a valuable tool that he manipulates through boyish smile to bewilderment to jutting pride.

Olivia Lindsay and Julian Moore-Cook in Conversations After Sex. Photo: Jake Bush

The men tell tales of their adventures- one has had sex with half his neighbours, although he qualifies this by saying he lives in a cul-de-sac. They talk about their betrayals, like the one who gave his girlfriend chlamydia. They get upset about having been criticised. They rarely show self awareness as they reveal their self absorption. It is certainly an insight into the male psyche.

‘She’ seems glad of the company, and amuses herself (and us) with ironic comments. Some of her more serious remarks suggest she is looking for more than escape: ‘you remind me of someone,’ she says, as if these representatives of the male sex might offer a key to understanding her former lover.

Olivia Lindsay has a great way with an arched eyebrow and wry smile.  Every so often, something triggers ‘She’ to remember her pain and her own emotions spill out. Again Ms Lindsay conveys these bursts of sadness with great feeling.

Revealing portraits

I can’t say whether this is an accurate portrayal of the world of casual sex but, in the confined space of this play, these sad, amusing and occasionally angry encounters come across as believable. The dialogue and structure are well nigh perfect. Although much of the conversation is on the level of a chat, every so often the men, stripped of their defences, reveal grief over the death of parents or departure of lovers. What emerges clearly is that the real theme of the play is loss. Even the Sister is experiencing a loss.

Despite their tears, the men don’t impress us.  This is partly because they seem peripheral, but also because they are portrayed as so narcissistic. By contrast, the ever present woman’s raw emotions as she navigates her grief touch your heart. The production is tightly directed by Jess Edwards, with splendid performances by all the cast.

But I have to question the use of nudity in this production. Nakedness on stage can be gratuitous, but in this case it is an important element of the story. The author’s intention in the script was that both main characters should start off naked. They soon get dressed, at least into their underwear, and remain so for the rest of the play, but I think this starting point is important because it symbolises the vulnerability of the characters in this situation, and reinforces why they are so honest about their thoughts and feelings. However, in this production, while Julian Moore-Cook is first seen completely naked, Olivia Lindsay is not.

I don’t know whose decision that was, and I’m not saying it ruined the production, but I do think it was a mistake, because the difference in the two characters’ first appearance created a misleading dynamic between them, suggesting only the man’s defences were down, which is far from the case.

Nevertheless Conversations After Sex is a fine piece of writing in a strong production and I would urge you to get to the Park Theatre and treat yourself to this little gem before it closes.

Conversations After Sex can be seen at the Park Theatre until 17 May 2025. Click here to buy tickets direct from the theatre.

Paul was given a review ticket by the venue.

Watch this review on the YouTube channel Theatre Reviews With Paul Seven

 

Alex Jennings in The Southbury Child – review

Powerful play by Stephen Beresford about tradition versus populism

★★★★

Production photo from The Southbury Child by Stephen Beresford at Chichester Festival Theatre and The Bridge Theatre London showing Alex Jennings June 2022
Alex Jennings in The Southbury Child. Photo: Manuel Harlan

What timing! The Prime Minister’s ethics advisor resigns and here’s a new play about sticking to your principles. A child has died, a child with the surname Southbury. The mother wants the church to be festooned with Disney balloons; the vicar says this is inappropriate for a church service. It becomes an unlikely cause célèbre and a test of wills that involves the whole community. What follows is an interesting, funny, emotional play about a battle between tradition and modernity.

The stage is a place for conversation. Creators of TV and cinema feel the need to keep us interested by constantly adding action or changing shots or putting on loud music. In a theatre play, the main currency is talk. So Stephen Beresford‘s The Southbury Child has lots of conversation exploring conflicts within today’s society, and, of course, conflict is the basis of drama. Physical acts whether violent or loving have all the more power for being rare.

The play looks at the importance of the past versus the need for change, principles versus populism, minority religion versus a secular society, a patrician elite versus the masses. Such rich content. The obvious comparisons are with Ibsen’s Enemy of the People and Chekhov‘s.. well, anything by Chekhov. I was also reminded of those drawing room plays of the mid 20th century that explored matters of morality, like T S Eliot’s The Cocktail Party or JB Priestley’s An Inspector Calls. In some ways, the dialogue could come from one of those plays. There’s an old fashioned feel to the way that the characters don’t mumble or pause or talk over one another, but it still sizzles. And there is a 21st century feel about the casual swearing and the popular references to Waitrose and Kerplunk.

The specific argument is over what a funeral is for. The vicar David Highland takes the high ground and says he won’t give the mother what she wants but what she needs. I’ve been to plenty of secular funeral services- I’m sure you have- where we’ve celebrated with lighthearted fun a life that has now ended, but, for those of faith, death is not an end but a beginning, and the funeral service offers hope of resurrection as well as a tried and tested way of dealing with grief. His decision throws up far more moral questions.

The vicar himself is far from moral. He’s had an affair, he drinks too much, he’s been in a drunken car crash. So is he a hypocrite? ‘You’re not exactly the poster boy for unshakable principles,’ says his curate. But do we expect too much of our leaders? After all, they’re only human, and isn’t it supposed to be what they represent that we respect, be it a spiritual post or a political position of power? Should we take their lead, even if we disagree with it, or should leaders follow the people?

There’s a lot of emotional conflict going on then, but the dialogue is full of humour. One character says, ‘These days you’re expected to be happy, like you’re expected to be hydrated’ or something like that. David imay be flawed but he seems kind, and well-meaning (which does make his stand against the balloon seem odd).

Alex Jennings gives a towering performance as the vicar. He employs a slightly higher voice than his usual rich voice which means he almost slips into an almost Alan Bennett impression, which is just right for some deliciously waspish sarcasm, like imagining heaven would have a branch of Waitrose. (He did play Alan Bennett in The Lady In The Van.) It’s not exaggerated so there is still warmth and authority in his impeccable middle-class speech.

Production photo from The Southbury Child y DStephen Beresford at Chichester Festival Theatre and The Bridge Theatre in London showing JackGreenlees and Jo Herbert June 2022 Greenless
Jack Greenlees and Jo Herbert in The SDouthbury child. Photo: Manuel Harlan

His is the only character given real depth. The others seem to be there to expose or test him. Nevertheless, the sketched outlines of these characters are clever enough to suggest that they have depth. His daughters are both following in his footsteps, in a way. Susannah is a teacher, and his verger, but not fitting well in the world. Her awkward but efficient character is played by Jo Herbert.

The other, Naomi, is an adopted black girl (providing an opportunity to criticise patronising white people). She’s become an actor and, by the way, much is made in the play of the way church services are like shows and priests like actors. David says that the annual blessing of the river is ‘the biggest house I play to’. Racheal Ofori gives a strong performance as the rebellious and somewhat wild young woman.

David’s wife Mary buttons up her feelings and finds it hard to cope with today’s touchy-feely world until it all comes spilling out in one tremendous moment. I did enjoy the way Phoebe Nicholls was able to hunch her body into a shy stiffness.

Craig, the new curate and the candidate for succeeding David, is played by Jack Greenlees. He may be holier than thou or indeed holier than David, but he is a gay man who is required by the church to deny his partner in order to pursue his vocation. Yet another cause and conflict thrown into the mix. As well as the interesting conversations- well, you might call them duels- with David, the other characters also have moments when they bounce off each other. There’s a lot going on.

One character David doesn’t spend much time with is the girl’s mother Tina, played by Sarah Twomey. She is the spark that started the fire but, to give more time to her grief would probably have unbalanced this largely sympathetic look at the way the vicar’s life spirals out of control.

The key opposition from the dead child’s family comes not from Tina but from the child’s young uncle Lee, played with a snarl by Josh Finan. I found myself shuddering every time he was on stage. Lee’s a nasty piece of work without any obvious redeeming feature, yet David as a Christian will not reject him. Lee returns again and again to challenge and needle the vicar.

The play takes place entirely in one room, maybe a drawing room. I don’t know much about the Church of England, however I do know that vicars are not well paid but they are often given a big house to live in. So there’s an appropriately shabby middle-class feel about Mark Thompson‘s set. There’s always a potential problem at Chichester, or any theatre using a thrust stage with an audience on three sides, iun that you can’t have much in the way of scenery. So, apart from a window and a few other pieces at the back, Mark Thompson‘s inspired main features are an image of the church at the back that towers over proceedings and a long wooden table that comes out towards the audience. Around it are 14 odd chairs, symbolic of the broad church perhaps.

Not that people sit down very often. This is a production showing the firm hand of director Nicholas Hytner in which people stand a lot, because that’s more aggressive than sitting, and stride around creating distance or nearness, as the conversation ebbs and flows.

You may find it hard to believe such a conflict could arise from something so trivial seeming, even though the play is apparently inspired by a real incident, but the beginning is nowhere near as contrived as the ending. Be that as it may, the grief at the loss of a child finally comes to the centre stage. And the final scene confirms that this is a play about loss of many kinds, both personal for many of the characters and for society, in terms of our traditions and heritage.

The Southbury Child performed at Chichester Festival Theatre until 25 June 2022 (tickets cft.org.uk) then at the Bridge Theatre from 1 July – 27 August London SE1 (bridgetheatre.co.uk)

Click here to watch the video review on YouTube

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