Written by Jennifer Adam
Directed by Steve Small
Review by Dominic Corr
When you’re in high school, it feels as though the entire world is against you. Or at least, what you perceive of the world – the social dynamics of the classroom, the parties, and the world projecting from your screens. One wrong move – and it won’t think twice about swallowing you whole. So, when one snap, one text, or one shared photo can change everything, how can you be the change you want to see in the world. How can you be the change that might have just saved ‘HER’.
Along with Duncan Kidd’s Storm Lantern and Isla Cowan’s And…And…And, Jennifer Adam’s HER completes Strange Town’s The Future Is Unwritten programme of newly commissioned plays designed to stimulate conversation and debate. While the other two works concern historical atrocities finding new light or the contemporary battle of class and climate crisis, Adam’s ‘HER’ may be the most directly recognisable and accessible piece of the trio to modern audiences with its frank discussions on consent, sexual assault, and gender inequality.
Despite its cast of four, ‘HER’ tells the tale of hundreds of thousands of youngsters, primarily girls and young women, who find themselves screaming from the inside for someone to notice what’s going on – in this case, a young high school girl struggles after images of her are taken without consent, and shared. Surreptitiously, Adam’s script is more nuanced than a clear-cut tale and warning of revenge porn and consent, where the protagonist might not be who we think it is. Reno Cole, playing a deceitfully clever role as ‘HIM’, who at times feels like the antagonist, bystander, and ill-timed ‘hero’, who delivers fire and brimstone in a role that gradually builds with the script into a tightly clenched moment of realisation which comes too late.
It isn’t pleasant. There’s the odd (welcome) break in tone thanks to Zara-Louise Kennedy and Edward Hutchings’ humour, a necessary cut through the bleakness and trauma that raises an appropriate laugh and draws recognition, but on the whole, Adams’ HER glares audiences in the eye – daring them to look away, like they may have to do ne so many times before; it’s brilliant writing which predicts the audience’s discomfort, but has no intentions of budging.
And a lot of this is down to Eleanor McMahon’s authentic, harrowing performance – nuanced and understated, somewhat faded (intentionally) into the peripherals as louder, more energetic conversations happen around, often about, them. And it’s clear how much Steve Small’s direction places trust in McMahon (and the rest of the cast) in carrying their roles with an authenticity that they will impart into the character. McMahon’s HER is every young girl in the audience – defined enough to be engaging but open enough to be a canvas to place oneself into her state of mind.
Occasional shortcuts to this are projected onto the back of the Summerhall Techcube, Ellie Thompson’s video design bringing a freshness and vitality of colour – reinforced by George Cort’s lighting. It’s never a distraction, splashed over Katie Inne’s set, consisting mainly of a backdrop for the projected text messages, occasional emoji, and a few steps to offer levels for the cast. HER, visually and in weight, has a bit less of a bite than is needed to stand out from productions following a similar vein – but excels with its strong cast and straight-arrow writing.
In a period where the continuing relevance of stories almost becomes numbed in a sea of repetition and good intent, Strange Town’s ‘HER’ is a fiercely direct eye-opener. Not only due to the ages of characters involved, a horrific reflection of the truth, but the maturity of the writing and creation that steps forward with a voice louder and more appropriate than many others raising similar calls to action, or in ‘HER’s case, a call to recognise where we failed to hear the call. Pointed, Adam’s work is less about ‘HER’ and more about ‘US’, making for an ideal entry into Strange Town’s touring productions – aimed at schools and teenage audiences who can engage with the piece on a respectful level, one which communicated with them directly, without pander or over-complicating things.
Fiercely Direct
HER runs at Summerhall until October 10th
Running time – One hour without interval
Photo credit – Andy Catlin
Review by Dominic Corr (contact@corrblimey.uk)
Lead editor of Corr Blimey, and a freelance critic for Scottish publications, Dominic has written for and contributed to several established and respected publications such as BBC Radio Scotland, The Scotsman, The List, The Skinny, Edinburgh Festival Magazine, The Reviews Hub, In Their Own League, and The Wee Review. As of 2023, he is a member of the Critic’s Award for Theatre Scotland (CATS) and a member of the UK Film Critics.
