Review by Sam Waite
⭐️⭐️⭐️
Those who were previously seen, either by the public or by themselves, as being at the apex of rights movement, can later find themselves struggling to accept that their views, too, have become wildly outdated. Such a change in the dynamics of what is seen as forward-thinking, and the ever-expanding nature of these movements, lies at the heart of Alma Mater, a drama by Kendall Feaver making its UK debut at the Almeida theatre. There are powerful, and very difficult, subjects at play here, but does the production have the guts and the understanding to have these risky subjects pay off?
Jo Mulligan, previously an investigative journalist and pioneer of late-20th century feminism, now acts as the first female College Master at a prestigious, 600-year-old university. Think ivy-draped walls, castle-like structures, and not a single woman either on the staff or in the student body until Jo’s late-80s matriculation. While Jo is both fond of and irritated by Nikki Stewart, a student rep who is perpetually earnest and doggedly rights-focused, their relationship becomes far more combative when Paige, an incoming first-year, confides in Nikki that she slept with a third-year boy, although, “I wasn’t conscious for the actual sex part.” With Jo unable to help without any evidence or with a direct conversation with Paige, who asked that no one be told, accusations of rape culture at the college incense Jo, especially when Nikki eventually takes her crusade to the internet, calling on others to share their own stories from their time at the university.
Two separate questions of consent rise immediately – was the incident, as Jo callously puts it, an issue of judgement on Paige’s part, and was Nikki’s attempt to seek justice unfair, given the subject’s insistence on privacy? Depending on who is the focus of the scene, whether Feaver’s script takes a side is entirely up for debate. When Nikki and Paige, who eventually becomes the uneasy face of their movement, are at the helm, Jo seems to be positioned firmly as a villain on side with the culture and institution themselves – however, scenes with Jo at their heart can lean more into neutrality, with her impassioned belief that she ought not to be punished for what has been happening for as long as women have been allowed to study there. An unfortunate side effect of this attempt to explore both sides of the debate is a stiltedness to the first act in particular, that half’s dialogue often seeming flat or overly expansional, whereas a clear target for discussion or criticism may have offered a better focus. Feaver’s pacing is strong, and the play never feels longer than it is or like a moment is dragging, and there are extended periods where the tension truly builds, particularly in the stronger, more well-formed second act.
Stepping in on short notice, Justine Mitchell took over the role of Jo from Lia Williams, who was forced to withdraw due to ill health, leaving the team no choice but to cancel their original press night. Performing with script in hand at times, and rested nearby at others, Mitchell excels in the role despite limited time to prepare, bringing shades of both cruelty and compassion to the character. Even the script becomes part of her performance, her cleverly picking her moments of when to read from it, or to look at her next monologue, based on when Jo might realistically be glancing at a document. Jo’s position as both protagonist and antagonist, depending on who we deem the “hero” of the piece, makes her a challenging role, and Mitchell’s ability to embody that after minimal preparation is nothing short of a marvel.
Nikki, played by Phoebe Campbell, is an equally difficult character – both a victim both past and present, and an eternal survivor who refuses to let what continues to happen defeat her. Campbell’s performance is well-measured, argumentative in tone where needed but managing not to tip into the troubling stereotype of the “shrill” feminist, and bringing some real heart and humour into the character’s dynamics. Liv Hill is charming and believably naïve as fresher Paige Hutson, and her growing confidence and buried conflict are well-played. The pair have a fun onstage bond, playing off of each other's different personas as partners in creating a powerful movement, but there’s a sense of falseness to their budding friendship – Paige says that she didn’t befriend Nikki just because of what both have experienced, but as written, neither girl is given enough real backstory or personality for this to ring true.
There are other strong performers, particularly Nathalie Armin as Leila, an old friend of Jo’s who is brought in as a mediator, and despite her loyalty to Jo is drawn immediately to Nikki and Paige’s cause. Armin carries herself with warmth and compassion, and eventually lets loose in a fiery scene where buried anger lights up the stage. Still, beyond her all-important moments, the work may actually have been improved by the trimming of a role or two in the cast of seven. The mother of the perpetrator, himself never actually seen, appears late in act one and is too one-note, only there to provide Jo with further thoughts of, “Well, we can’t just be expected to ruin this boy’s life with no real proof,” and a turn from Nathaniel Parker as the school’s headmaster is largely wasted time that could have as much impact if alluded to rather than given minutes of stage-time.
With so much going on, it’s a pity that many of the strengths in Feaver’s writing are overshadowed. When allowed to be, her characters are very funny, throwing around witty one-liners and building genuine rapport, but sometimes more is bitten off than the play and its cast are able to chew. Issues of the two non-white characters being presented as figureheads to prove how forward-thinking Jo’s work at the college is are thrown into the mix, but there truly isn’t enough time to deal with all of the topics at hand. Whether a more insular, one-subject focus to the drama or having multiple issues be present from the very first scenes would have been more help, these moments are merely awkward as they are, seeming shoehorned in to increase the view of Jo as less progressive than she believes, rather than as genuine points of contention within the story.
Director Polly Findlay keeps the cast visible for most of the performance, those not part of whatever scene is playing out at the time sat patiently on benches against the back wall. Progressively this becomes more poignant, as we come to see that the eyes of the world are on the university, and particularly on the primary trio of Jo, Nikki and Paige, and realise that nothing they do goes without notice. Findlay also makes strong use of Vicki Mortimer’s set, a raised, square stage framed by benches, some of which are later moved to create the illusion of a more packed office space. We quickly understand that where the characters choose to stand, walk, or sit, dictates the kind of environment they are in, be it the closed-in offices of the college, or the more open-plan outdoor spaces, where old brick walls can be repurposed to climb or simply to sit.
Sometimes sharp and insightful, but other times clumsy and overstated, Alma Mater could flourish with some minor tweaks but as it stands, is primarily a vessel for some strong performances, and particularly from a striking, infuriating, powerful turn from Justine Mitchell. While other shows have offered more delicate handlings of the ongoing “culture wars”, this one is not without its charms, and I would certainly encourage anyone who is interested in further discussions of these themes to judge Alma Mater’s handling of them for themselves.
Alma Mater plays at the Almeida Theatre until July 20th
For tickets and information visit https://almeida.co.uk/whats-on/alma-mater/
Photos by Ali Wright (first two images) and Marc Brenner
Comentários