William Osbon’s new play Jellyfish, winner of the English Literature Play Award, recently played at the Bedlam Theatre, 29th April to 4th May. This was an assured piece of work with absurdist flourishes and passages of great physicality. Charting the lives of an excruciatingly pedestrian couple Smiff and Willow, the play revolved around the epiphanies, arguments and disruptions brought about by the arrival of a “Jellyfish Guy” (gender never quite clear), who intruded on their home.
The technical design clearly had some time to have fun with the venue. The lighting by Moses Brzeski-Reilly maybe had one cue too many, but played a large part in constructing the world of the play, and was particularly effective in the communication of story when the play shifted location, or went into a dream sequence. The soundtrack was an utter delight, flitting between girlish yé-yé, easy jazz and some more modern international beats. The sound design by Morgan Hazelip was well incorporated into the world of the play. The set inevitably placed the overused green “Bedlam sofa” front and centre – but despite this, was perfectly evocative. James Harvey’s costume management was well-curated, and the choice to have the titular Jellyfish evoked through gesture rather than explicitly laid out was the best move — there is no need to insult an audience’s intelligence when working in the most gestural and imaginative medium, and in such an abstract form of it at that.
All three performances were clearly well worked. William Osbon played the husband Smiff as every bit the braggart, his face always in some contortion, always searching for a laugh. Raphaella Hawkins had a tricky part in Willow, but gave a nuanced performance which shone when the text let it, and still focused and compelling when it didn’t. Anya McChristie had the most comedic potential to work with textually, and was up to the challenge. She was a constantly chaotic jellyfish, but also skilfully constructed gestural motifs that gave the absurdism integrity. Somewhere in between an Ionesco-esque meditation on the failure of language and Mr. Blobby – always in caricature – she was a joy to watch.
The play’s final scene did not quite match the tight construction and intrigue of what preceded it. In a work that seemed to be so much about interrogating heterosexual dynamics, leaving its audience with a reconciliation of a couple that has spent the last hour arguing with each other felt unsatisfactory. Osbon has spoken of the Jellyfish as an “annoyingly ideal figure”, perhaps representing God. But to me, it seems a more complete version of this play is one that tackles the provocative questions around sexuality, desire, and the fear of these life forces that linger under the surface of this text, rather than reducing it to existentialism.
Still, this was a coherent and skilful production, made especially enjoyable by three great performances. Osbon is clearly a writer with great class and imagination, and has the performance chops to match; anything by him is worth a look. McChristie and Hawkins are talented performers who will surely continue to develop from strength to strength; and of course, this was all supported by a fantastic production team, led by director Tilda Seddon.
Image by Andrew Morris
