Traverse, Edinburgh
AJ Taudevin's small-scale touring show takes the form of a 10-a-penny issue play. Produced in association with the Scottish Refugee Council, it's a single-set 75-minute drama about a mother and her 10-year-old daughter who have escaped persecution in a "broken" west African country and found themselves in the relative safety of a Glasgow tower block in sore need of renovation. There's black mould on the walls and community spirit has been bulldozed out of existence. Life, as one of the neighbours says, is "one long symphony of fuck". We duly meet the well-meaning but ineffectual social worker and discover that the boorish loud-mouth of a neighbour actually has a heart of gold.
So far, so familiar. But Some Other Mother stands out in two ways. The first is in Taudevin's interest in the psychological wounds inflicted by the immigration system. This flat is less a place of refuge than a cell providing respite from a debilitating fear. Every half-understood letter is a threat, every knock on the door signals danger, every offer of help seems like a trick.
For young Star, all this leads to nightmares, distracted behaviour and the arrival of "dog-man", an imaginary friend who gives voice to her most violent and profane impulses. For Mama, with her rudimentary grasp of English, it leads to defensiveness, aggression and sleepless nights. As a study of mental ill health brought about by an unforgiving system, it is sad and distressing.
The second distinctive feature is the four performances directed by Catrin Evans. Shvorne Marks as the girl and Joy Elias-Rilwan as her mother are luminous and unsentimental, their anger focused and unapologetic. Just as good are Pauline Knowles and Billy Mack in a production that hits harder than its modest premise portends.
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Rating: 3/5 Reported by guardian.co.uk 1 day ago.
AJ Taudevin's small-scale touring show takes the form of a 10-a-penny issue play. Produced in association with the Scottish Refugee Council, it's a single-set 75-minute drama about a mother and her 10-year-old daughter who have escaped persecution in a "broken" west African country and found themselves in the relative safety of a Glasgow tower block in sore need of renovation. There's black mould on the walls and community spirit has been bulldozed out of existence. Life, as one of the neighbours says, is "one long symphony of fuck". We duly meet the well-meaning but ineffectual social worker and discover that the boorish loud-mouth of a neighbour actually has a heart of gold.
So far, so familiar. But Some Other Mother stands out in two ways. The first is in Taudevin's interest in the psychological wounds inflicted by the immigration system. This flat is less a place of refuge than a cell providing respite from a debilitating fear. Every half-understood letter is a threat, every knock on the door signals danger, every offer of help seems like a trick.
For young Star, all this leads to nightmares, distracted behaviour and the arrival of "dog-man", an imaginary friend who gives voice to her most violent and profane impulses. For Mama, with her rudimentary grasp of English, it leads to defensiveness, aggression and sleepless nights. As a study of mental ill health brought about by an unforgiving system, it is sad and distressing.
The second distinctive feature is the four performances directed by Catrin Evans. Shvorne Marks as the girl and Joy Elias-Rilwan as her mother are luminous and unsentimental, their anger focused and unapologetic. Just as good are Pauline Knowles and Billy Mack in a production that hits harder than its modest premise portends.
• What have you been to see lately? Tell us about it on Twitter using #GdnReview
Rating: 3/5 Reported by guardian.co.uk 1 day ago.