Irish schoolgirl Jessie Madigan (Amy De Bhrun) attempts to care for mentally-ill mother Valerie Madigan (Louise Coleman) with the help of her grandmother Mrs Madigan (Cecilia Colby). Agitated and defensive, Jessie dreams of a better life, surrounded as she is by poverty and indifference. She has to cope with disruption when her mother is taken into hospital as her fragile mental health deteriorates, moving in with her grandmother and then back to live with her mother when Valerie is released from hospital. Help from the social services comes in the form of social worker Patricia Scanlan (Miriam Babooram), but this turns out to be thin gruel for daughter and grandmother when Valerie kills herself, in spite of having been pronounced fit to leave hospital by the psychiatrist.

Who is responsible? Why was Valerie released when she was at risk? Questions of accountability prove futile as Patricia Scanlan refutes any suggestion that she had suspected suicidal tendencies in Valerie, and the Madigans discover they are too poor to find a solicitor who will take the case against the psychiatrist. They have been let down and cast off 'like we're diseased or cursed... the two of us against this silence'. Jessie goes off the rails under the strain, resorting to self-abuse and resisting help, although family friend Maria Cocker (Amy Hyder) offers kindly solace. The play concludes with Jessie calling up a telephone operator (Faye Hearsey) in a drunken cry for help as she works out whom she should blame for what happened, and telling her dead mother 'I hate you, I miss you... no more scratches, I promise'.

Solas Theatre Company presents George Carroll's hard-hitting one-hour social drama, adapted for stage from its original version for radio, with immense passion and unadulterated acting talent. It is possible that one hour is not quite long enough to plumb a story with such weighty themes, but its message is clear enough: shit happens, but when you're at the bottom, don't expect the state to carry the shovel.

Miriam Babooram conveys the fine line social workers such as character Patricia Scanlan must tread between offering support to troubled families and maintaining professional distance. Scanlan is perhaps the Madigans' only hope of pursuing a case against the psychiatrist, but the social worker edges away from Mrs Madigan, groping for the exit as she insists that she cannot help. Miriam Babooram is excellent as a sympathetic yet ultimately weak woman who offers only platitudes and who backs out when the situation gets controversial.

Cecilia Colby (Mrs Madigan) steers away from the sort of caricatured portrayals one often sees when young actors play roles several decades older than their natural casting range, and in this case the result is effective and affecting. She demonstrates there is no need for stooping, squinting or a hackneyed vocal tremor - though the actress sensibly refrains from incongruously youthful gestures. With her air of weary gravitas, there is no doubt that Mrs Madigan's dogged persistence derives from a lifetime of hardship, and the actress manages to stoke up an emotional furnace that crackles beneath the surface and erupts with exasperation at a society that would abandon them without justice.

Louise Coleman gives a truly accomplished performance as Valerie Madigan, the mentally-ill mother whose obsessions, hallucinations and paranoia drive her to suicide. Always a challenge, credibility-wise, a convincing portrayal of a character suffering severe mental illness is well within Louise Coleman's range, and in her final speech, as Valerie contemplates her 'short swim in the air', she captures the poignancy of a disturbed person calmly and almost lucidly taking the only escape route she can imagine. 'Enough is enough, it is... there's too much in my head', she says as she steps up to the balcony and surveys the urban nightscape, justifying sanely the insane act she is about to commit. This is touching and skilful work.

Striking Amy De Bhrun is blessed with buckets of stage presence and performs brilliantly as the wary, burdened schoolgirl Jessie Madigan whose life couldn't be more different from the one she dreams of as she listens to Gwen Stefani's 'If I Were A Rich Girl' on her iPod. Jessie struggles with an incipient eating disorder, self-harm, and binge drinking as she looks after and then grieves for her mother, and the actress pulls off this harrowing subject matter without indulgence.

Faye Hearsey plays the unfortunate telephone Operator who receives Jessie's late-night distress call. It is not a large part, but the actress does a fine job as she commits to the role of a young woman who suddenly finds herself in the position of a Samaritans-style counsellor, and navigates Jessie through choppy waters as best she can until the call is abandoned.

Amy Hyder injects lively humour into the action with the well-meaning East-Londoner Maria Cocker. At first, Maria, with her loud cackling laugh, pram, side-pony-tail, and tight jeans, appears nosey and brash via Valerie's skewed viewpoint. It becomes clear, however, that she is a warm-hearted confidante who provides meaningful and trustworthy support to Jessie where others fail - for example in persuading her, when Patricia Scanlan could not, that counselling might help. Amy Hyder paints a vibrant portrait of a true friend in adversity, representing a glimmer of hope and humanity in a world otherwise devoid of compassion.

Writer George Carroll's direct style suits the unadorned realism of the play's matter, with each scene driving towards a defined point. For example, a scene between Jessie and her grandmother that begins with an argument when Jessie wants to go out that night swells into a huge row about Valerie. They realise, however, that they both have an enemy in common - nobody. Or rather, an absence of somebody influential prepared to help. Jessie offers to stay in whilst her grandmother persuades her to go out, and in this perfect reversal, they have reached a truce and greater understanding. George Carroll achieves taut writing that knows where it is going, trimmed of any extraneous substance.

Director Helena Browne interprets the piece with considerable sensitivity. When actors are not in a scene, they are slumped against boxes around the edge, not sitting in a dressing room, which builds a unified approach and emotional commitment from the cast. Set change music such as Antony And The Johnsons' version of Knocking On Heaven's Door and, at the end, John Lennon's Mother, with the lyrics 'you had me, but I never had you', enhance the play's melancholy themes to great effect. Set designer Mason James creates an ingenious concrete jungle in which the concrete is, in fact, cardboard. Brown cardboard boxes with pen-drawn windows are stacked like high-rise buildings on the stage, a simple, strong image fully in keeping.

Cast Credits: (alpha order): Miriam Babooram - Patricia Scanlan. Cecilia Colby - Gran. Louise Coleman - Valerie Madigan. Amy De Bhrun - Jessie Madigan. Faye Hearsey - Telephone Operator. Amy Hyder - Maria Cocker.

Company Credits: Writer - George Carroll. Director - Helena Browne. Stage Manager - Rozie Jackson. Lighting Designer - Rob Reed. Set Designer - Mason James. Voice Coach - Fiona Browne. Company - Solas Theatre Company. Website - www.solastheatrecompany.com. Thanks to: Felicity Kendall; Prunella Scales and Timothy West; Zoë Wanamaker; Benjamin Baxter; Fiona Denham, James Denham, Riley Denham; Sarah Browne; Joanne Barry, Dave Barry; Andy Franzkewiak; Mason James; Richard Mawle; David Gill, Fenny Gill; Samantha Babooram; Jenni Longley; Claire Cordingley.

END

(c) Tara Paulsson 2008

reviewed Wednesday 18 June 08 / Pleasance Theatre Islington

Fringe Report (c) Fringe Report 2002-2012

www.fringereport.com