'Nut' by Debbie Tucker Green

It isn't often that a playwright truly grasps 'The Art of Conversation'. It is often too complex and off-the-cusp for any writer to really capture the impossibility of intermittent overlapping, that occurs when people interact. Debbie Tucker Green however, seems to have pushed through this hindering barrier with 'Nut'.




The play begins whilst the audience is being seated, with main character Elayne writing lists whilst sitting comfortably on the ingenious set created by Lisa Marie Hall. With a singular light beginning on our main character and then a timed loop that sees it creep across the stage, we get the sense that time is passing by - a nice touch by lighting designer Tim Mitchell. Once the crowd is seated Elayne then steps into action with co-star Sophie Stanton.

The entire play is a metaphor for many things. From script, to set, to costume; it is all a symbol of something greater. Elayne, is a troubled woman. She obviously struggles with interaction, even with those in her own home and the lists that she writes for her sister seem to be the only connection with the outside world. We see the arrival of three characters. Stanton's character whom seems to enjoy planning funeral arrangements with Elayne and telling her that 'she don't know no-one' to invite - a sign that she is deeply lonely. Devon (Anthony Welsh) then arrives expressing his 'confusion' at the fact the doorbell does not work. This is yet another symbol of Elayne's unwillingness and struggle to connect with the outside world then furthered by Devon's insistence that she is 'not normal'. Finally we meet the angelic singing voice of the timid unnamed child who sticks up for Elayne and stands by her. All characters are dressed in the same colour scheme: grey, green and burgundy and utilise the intricate abilities of the set, unbalancing it, twisting it... and for the whole scene I found myself trying to work out why. With a darker twist, we are left in a game of twisted party tricks involving a cigarette and ending with Stanton burning Elayne's arm with a cigarette. Was this a story of an abusive relationship among housemates?

Stephen Cummiskey Photography

We then cross from the masterful command of a demanding script between these characters to the life of Elayne's sister, played by Sharlene Whyte. Here we see a broken down relationship, leaving a daughter in the middle. I have to say that the direction of the scene seems completely natural, we believe without hesitance that the two characters we are presented with, know each other inside-out. From simple body language direction from Polly Bennett like rubbing thighs, rolling eyes and checking hair it was a comedic scene that anyone in - or who has ever been in - a relationship, couldn't help but relate to. Tyrone (Gershwyn Eustache Jr), knows exactly how to push the mother of his child over the edge, tempting her with a cigarette, telling her that their daughter sings to him and not to her: they could make a living from crafting quips to spite one another. Despite the inept and obviously sheltered American lady sat next to me huffing and sighing, then "subtly" stage whispering at her husband 'is that a drug cigarette?', I managed to be swept away in their lyrical games, written and directed beautifully by Debbie Tucker Green.

Stephen Cummiskey Photography

For the final scene we return to Elayne's apartment, where the apocalyptic set seems suddenly to spring into the forefront of our brains. Whyte's character arrives at sister Elayne's house for a visit. She once again mentions the doorbell being 'confusing' which irritates Elayne. She then asks if she has put batteries for it on the list for her to go shopping for her. She pushes Elayne to try and come with her, to which Elayne refuses. Then enter the other characters, all dressed in the same colours, tearing into the conversation - to which only Elayne responds. It is now that we realise, these characters are not abusive housemates, nor are they real people, instead they reflect the different aspects of Elayne's own psyche, intent on punishing her for being different or as we keep hearing, 'not normal'.
We watch as she battles with her inner demons to keep up the conversation with her sister, even with the reveal of the cigarette burns on her arms - but they are winning. As her sister pushes to help telling her to put TCP on her burns, Elayne is more interested in showing her a party trick with a cigarette. We watch as she holds out her hands and taps the ash onto her palm with no pain. She then asks to do it to her sister who refuses. Elayne then makes a bold statement -  a cry for help, 'can I hold your hand?'. Her sister, unsure of whether this party trick is going to be played out on her too, refuses. At this moment, the demons of her own psyche take hold once again and we watch as slowly Elayne lowers the burning cigarette to her forearm to burn herself.

Cut to black.

Hinged Set by Lisa Marie Hall

And so, we do not get to see the solution to Elayne's problems, nor the conclusion to our story. We are instead treated with an understanding. We now understand the costume choice to colour code all of the personas within Elayne's mind. We understand the meaning behind the beautifully symbolic set. It twists and turns, it writhes beneath the actors that walk it - it is unhinged. The set is a reflection of Elayne's own psyche. Jagged edges, vulnerable in places, easy to manipulate, to unbalance.... it is as much a story of mental instability as the script itself.

I walked away this time, not necessarily wowed by revelation or at the lessons I had learned about life but instead, in deep appreciation for some great set and costume design and a script that had mastered the art of conversation brilliantly. It was a 'slice of life' performance that we believed, that even at just 70minutes long, we were pulled into and then left hanging from - just like Elayne.

Stephen Cummiskey Photography

An 8/10 for this - and a must see for any set designers out there!