The Mother, theatre review: Magnificent Gina McKee masters complex portrait of a woman on the edge

Florian Zeller's play offers a harrowing portrait of an elegant middle-aged woman whose sense of reality is under attack, says Henry Hitchings
Parent trapped: Gina McKee as Anne and William Postlethwaite as her son Nicholas
Alastair Muir
Henry Hitchings27 January 2016

Florian Zeller has been a big deal in his native France for a decade. But it was only when Christopher Hampton’s translation of The Father premiered in Bath in 2014 that British audiences became keenly aware of this remarkable writer. Transfers to Kilburn’s Tricycle and the West End followed, and now we’re set to see more of the 36-year-old’s plays.

The first to arrive is this harrowing portrait of Anne, an elegant middle-aged woman whose sense of reality is under attack. Her 25-year marriage to businessman Peter seems to be crumbling, and now their children have left home she feels empty and confused.

Is Peter having an affair? Is his trip to Leicester for a conference a sham? Is their son Nicholas under the spell of his racy girlfriend or simply expressing his independence? In short, is Anne going mad, or is the rest of the world conspiring to make her appear unhinged?

In Laurence Boswell’s crisp production Gina McKee is superb as Anne — switching from sulkiness to bewilderment and from an almost kittenish coyness to frenzied despair. She perfectly conveys the character’s air of abandonment, and her tense exchanges with Richard Clothier’s tired, dignified Peter and William Postlethwaite’s angular Nicholas reveal multiple layers of vulnerability.

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1/50

Zeller is a master of manipulation, whose playfulness has a dark edge. Scenes are repeated, but with unsettling variations. The magic lies in his ability to combine a rigorous command of structure with a fine understanding of emotional nuance. Though the results aren’t as clever or moving as The Father, this is still a profoundly disorientating experience — mischievous, funny, sad and wise.

Until March 5, Tricycle Theatre (020 7328 1000, tricycle.co.uk)

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