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4 stars out of 5
Cuckoo, Royal Court, review: The dark, relatable comedy the theatre has been missing
Four women from a single Birkenhead family navigate a widening generation gap, and prove beguiling company
July 13, 2023 11:12 am
It’s almost the end of artistic director Vicky Featherstone’s decidedly uneven tenure at the country’s premier new writing theatre and, joyously, it looks as though she has saved the best for last. What a pleasure it is to hear the Court echoing with warm audience laughter; there has been precious little theatrical mirth in Sloane Square in recent years.
Cuckoo, by Michael Wynne, is far more humane and relatable than too many of this venue’s offerings have been under Featherstone; one can comfortably imagine the play appealing far more widely than the customary niche audience. The all-round quality on offer here evokes wistful reminders of the glory days of Featherstone’s illustrious predecessor, Dominic Cooke.
Wynne, a native of Birkenhead, locates the action firmly and confidently in his hometown. The opening tableau is striking: four women sit around a dining table in a cosy domestic setting, yet their physical proximity is deceptive: each of them is locked in fierce communication with her phone, eyes fixed on the little screen while entirely ignoring the family members next to her. It’s the perfect, bittersweet snapshot of our age and Wynne has much to say about the internet, with all its perils – and also possibilities.
There’s much beguiling chat about the minutiae, and mundanity, of daily life: Featherstone’s production grounds us absolutely in the world of widowed Doreen (Sue Jenkins), her daughters Carmel (Michelle Butterly) and Sarah (Jodie McNee) and Carmel’s near-silent 17-year-old daughter Megyn (Emma Harrison). Megyn left school with no qualifications and no interests; she might have thousands of “friends” online but she is almost a recluse in real life.
After the opening fish and chip supper, a rattled Megyn takes herself upstairs to her grandmother’s bedroom – and there she stays, as days turn into weeks. Doreen, tolerant at first but increasingly bemused, obligingly responds to her granddaughter’s texted requests for the delivery of food and drink.
Wynne sets himself the fearsome challenge of providing a big pay-off to Megyn’s self-imprisonment; he doesn’t quite manage it, but there’s much to savour en route to a slightly underwhelming conclusion.
Butterly and McNee provide rich shading in their portraits of middle-aged sisters buffeted by life: disappointments both emotional and financial have led the former to be sharp and cynical (she calls Megyn “the lunatic in the attic”), whereas the latter, lonely but lively, is susceptible to every passing whim. Doreen, meanwhile, is enjoying her newly discovered eBay habit, for reasons that are only disclosed late on.
In their very different ways, these four women are trying to define themselves in uncertain and troubling times – and it is a real pleasure to spend two hours in their company.