Mother, May I?, Theatre Upstairs

A small pyramid of custard creams sit on one of the four symmetrically placed shelves, others hang from the ceiling nearer the front of the stage. This caught my eye before the many pint glasses did, arranged in rectangles at the four corners of the stage, all containing water but at different levels. This is mirrored by pages from the bible on the back wall. A cross form is left on the stage for Claire to move, this space, again, reflected on the back wall. Symmetry and reflection, faith, belief and filling a void are also present in this debut piece from writer, and actress, Ranae Von Meding, told with grace, a light touch, sympathy and beauty.

The opening lines, figures that terrify Claire, is immediate and stark. A bar of light across her neck pins her to the back wall in the centre of the cross. Her mother believes in the bible so much that her words of comfort are 'I'll pray for you'. She is a single mother with a number of kids making her way through life. The first void. Like anyone growing up, Claire questions this, and then finds her own likes - the feel of a religion in itself, helped by a graceful pose, background music that takes us from where we are to where Claire is, with white and cool blue lights, from Colm Eaton's design, glancing off the pint glasses. She is struggling with life itself, what people think of her and worse, what she thinks of herself in terms of what people think of her (if that makes sense). Another void. She reads definitions of bulimia and custard creams from the bible she carries around with her, another reflection like in the set.

There is much to this new play, with skillful direction from Steve Gunn, and while in other hands it might have come across as being something more typical, sentimental, angst ridden, the kind we see in most TV movies, here it isn't anything like that. There is an ease to it, in terms of Von Meding's performance and the way her own words come out, as well as an ease in tackling the subject matter, which is not to imply, or say, that it is not dealt with seriously, because it is. It is done in a personal, simple and direct way. This is what's happening to Claire, and she knows it, the vulnerability, and doubt that is palpable, in a perfectly judged performance from Von Meding.

Mother, May I? is impressive in a wonderfully understated way. It doesn't have to underline, or overemphasis anything, and it doesn't preach, or give sermon's. This is one person's experience laid out for us all, and it is so much the better for that. There is beauty and grace to this tale, delivered thoughtfully, and really takes us on a journey into the mind of Claire. I am sure there will be more writing from Von Meding, and I do hope this isn't the last we have seen of Mother, May I? either. It is very well done and will remain with you afterwards.