Sarah Rickman’s play sets up an enticing, all-female “anti-friendship” endeavour in the wilderness: Mei has died of cancer and her dying wish has instructed her closest friends to come together in the redwood forest of Wales to scatter her ashes.
We meet them lost in the forest, without a compass or workable map. It looks, at the outset, like a jolly away-day gone awry. The bonhomie, if there was any, has curdled and they are now taking big swipes at each other. Because, while they were close to Mei, they have little in common with one another bar the urn that contains their departed friend.
That they are chalk-and-cheese is conveyed in broad, gestural ways. There is Rose (Sarah Rickman), Mei’s sister-in-law, who is harbouring a secret, along with Jules (Stacy Abalogun), a lesbian and strong personality at odds with grumpy Sue (Ciara Pouncett). Jasmin (Rendah Beshoori) appears like a Chelsea mum, in smart jacket and dress, while Cathy (Scarlett Alice Johnson) is Mei’s dungaree-clad colleague who goes on silent retreats to India.
When the rain starts to pelt down and they seek refuge in booze, you brace yourself for a conflagration in the woods that never comes. Despite the drunkenness and a bout of primal screaming, this drama fails to set alight; the humour too obvious, the plot-points weak and pace ponderous. The highlight is Abi Groves’ beautiful set, awash with autumnal hues, with bracken strewn underfoot and what looks like embossed thickets in the backdrop.
Nothing comes alive beyond the forest itself. Under the direction of Emma Gersch, there are prolonged moments of dramatic dead-time as characters sit around drinking or speaking insubstantial nothings. One scene towards the end shows the women simply packing up in silence, with no accompanying emotional charge.
The script flags up its issues in the most cosmetic of ways, without developing them, such as menopause, or whether or not to have children. Mei is labelled a narcissist and we hear how she gave each of these friends a nasty nickname. All of this is brushed aside too quickly, none of it feels authentic. So you are left with a drama that itself seems stranded in these rain-sodden woods, not quite sure of where to go, what to say.
At Park theatre, London, until 15 November
