After Party @ Traverse Theatre
Entertaining and empathetic, Morna Young’s new play is a celebration of life – and a view of how Western cultures handle death
Vivienne Blackwood is 80 years old. She spins lies to each of her flaky family members to entice them to celebrate her birthday with her. They discover upon arrival it will be her last. Tomorrow, she will die.
In After Party, a chaotic family reunion where secrets are revealed slowly morphs into a sensitive treatise on dying with dignity, and intergenerational legacies and conflicts. The image of a proud, waning starlet with resentful distant children might at first feel archetypal, but Viv is no cliché. She begins the play aware of the harm she’s passed down through shallow parenting, and with intrigue we watch her navigate how to connect with her family in spite of that.
Katie Posner’s confident direction infuses the production with vibrancy, and assists the script’s shift from a kinetic and comic first act towards greater stillness and reflection. Characters go from constant movement, rarely looking at one another unless in retort, to thematically and physically meeting each other face to face. A fierce, assured pace settles into a relaxed and patient game as each character sounds off less and listens more. It’s all very satisfying to witness.
The cast are tremendous. Hilary Maclean’s Lily is a highlight, showcasing fantastic comic flair and an empathy for the conflict between the self and the family that is beautifully observed. Rachel Dick is wonderfully sincere as young Sasha, and Liz Kettle anchors the play in a subtle, captivating turn as the unassuming Carol. Alison Peebles commands an immense presence as our central matriarch Viv, expertly juggling humour, theatricality and vulnerability.
Though the neat ending might feel a little too pleasing for some given the complex subject matter, After Party stands as an excellent testament to the timeless power of naturalistic theatre and sharp writing.
After Party, Traverse Theatre (Traverse 1), until 30 Aug (not 24), various times, £31/£26.50