THEATRE REVIEW: LIPPY – MayFest – Bristol Old Vic  

Based on the unexplained suicide of four women who starved themselves to death over a period of 40 days and who systematically destroyed any clues that might have helped us to understand their actions, Lippy will not be every theatregoers cup of tea. If the play’s subject is bleak, the dramatic treatment of the subject adds to the challenge. Austere staging, a relentlessly ominous drone of a soundtrack and some tricksy metatheatrical self-referentiality combine to generate an intense, disconcerting experience.

Surprisingly, Lippy opens in witty, almost playful, mode. The audience is presented with an ‘after the show’ talk in which an urbane host interviews one of the writers/actors from the play we have just supposedly seen. Tonally this metatheatrical frame sits somewhat awkwardly with the grim action to come, but thematically the interview’s discussion of lip-reading establishes the key ideas of the difficulty of ‘reading’ other people’s words and actions, the potential for misreadings and the role of writers in putting words into characters’ mouths.

The relaxed chat show format soon gives way to a Beckett-inspired scene: the minimalistic interior of a house littered with black bin liners. Into this scene come characters dressed in forensic suits and masks – perhaps crime scene investigators – who, in another metaleptical twist, slowly reveal themselves to be the four suicidal women. What follows is almost expressionistic dance. Dialogue is minimal, ordinary actions are slowed down and freighted with ominous significance, a nightmarish atmosphere is generated and sustained. Silence and death seem to hover horribly nearby. The play’s claustrophobic intensity culminates in more Beckett-inspired stagecraft; the projected image of the mouth of the last surviving woman on a giant screen reciting a prolonged monologue.

Overall a brave, ambitious production made for a memorable and challenging evening at the theatre. Just what I needed on the last day of term! 

Review by Neil Bowen