Directed by Becky Hope-Palmer
Written by Jess Brodie
Review by Dominic Corr
There are few things more complex than desire, which rarely manifests (or behaves) how others would like it to, and GUSH wastes no time admitting as much. Jess Brodie’s new play steps into the spotlight with a boldness that feels both confrontational and strangely inviting, as though the audience has been ushered into a private conversation that has finally decided to speak without apology.
Directed by Becky Hope‑Palmer, the production pulses with a restless curiosity about the stories women tell themselves, the ones they bury and the ones that spill out when the world stops listening. What unfolds is a theatrical dive into contradictions, longing, shame, pleasure and the uneasy negotiations between them, delivered with a candour that refuses to look away in a blisteringly strong performance from Jessica Hardwick.
A rather stark set, with a sunken raised-bed of cushions, Ally is sat navigating the tangled terrain between what she wants, what she thought she wanted, what she has been taught to want and what she has been told she should never admit to wanting. She wants to be a mum. She’s done the classes, met the right person (she thinks). So why does it still feel ‘off’? It is a narrative that slips between confession, comedy and confrontation, exploring the tension between self‑sacrifice and self‑discovery. Hardwick, is caught in a tug‑of‑war between expectation and instinct, and the script charts her journey with a blend of frankness and theatrical flair. The plot unfolds through a series of encounters, memories and imagined scenarios, each one peeling back another layer of the character’s internal landscape.
What gives the production its bite is its refusal to sanitise the conversation. Brodie’s writing is sharp, rhythmic and unafraid to wade into the murkier corners; it’s not so much about the life after birth, which so many stories about becoming a parent lay, but the lead up to it – the mourning of the life which will change. The humour lands with a sting, the emotional beats with a surprising tenderness. The play’s exploration of sexuality and selfhood is handled with a clarity that avoids both coyness and sensationalism, instead offering a portrait of a woman learning to articulate what she has long been encouraged to swallow. The productions edges stop abruptly outside of the theatre walls; there’s a potential louder voice here in GUSH, but Brodie’s thematic threads trust the audience to follow the character through her contradictions.
The staging amplifies this tension beautifully. Designer Becky Minto creates a space that feels both intimate and exposed, a kind of psychological dressing room where the character tries on versions of herself under the unforgiving glow of Renny Robertson’s lighting. The sound design by Niroshini Thambar adds texture and momentum, shifting from pulsing underscoring to moments of stillness that allow the audience to sit with the character’s discomfort. The production’s aesthetic is bold without becoming cluttered, and the creative team’s cohesion is evident in every transition.
Hardwick’s performance is the anchor of the evening. She moves through the character’s contradictions with a fluidity that keeps the audience leaning forward, her delivery balancing vulnerability with razor‑sharp timing. Her physicality, shaped by Hope‑Palmer’s direction, gives the piece a kinetic energy that prevents the monologue‑driven structure from ever feeling static. There is a mischievousness to her performance that allows the heavier themes to land without sinking the show’s buoyant spirit.
GUSH ultimately leaves its mark not through through the steady insistence that desire deserves to be spoken aloud, even when the words feel unwieldy; it is fiery and funny, insistent yet self-conscious; messy but sterile. A piece that treats contradiction as a kind of truth, allowing the tangled wants to sit openly in the room without tidy resolution. It is theatre that lingers because it recognises the courage required to name what has long been swallowed, and the relief that comes when someone finally does. The result is a production that glows with honesty, humour and a quiet, defiant tenderness, and a magnificent performance from Hardwick.
Glows with Honesty
GUSH runs at The Traverse Theatre
Running time: One hour without interval
Photo credit: Mihaela Bodlovic
Review by Dominic Corr (contact@corrblimey.uk)
Editor of Corr Blimey, and a freelance critic for Scottish publications, Dominic has been writing freelance for several established and respected publications such as BBC Radio Scotland, The List, The Scotsman, Edinburgh Festival Magazine, The Reviews Hub, In Their Own League, The Wee Review and Edinburgh Guide. As of 2023, he is a member of the Critic’s Award for Theatre Scotland (CATS) and a member of the UK Film Critics.
