The lights go down, and a woman is supported across the stage and into a chair. Onto the set bustles a hurried-looking, able-bodied woman, with a middle-class English accent, a notebook and pen. She apologises for being late and goes to open the book. The stage is set for what I assumed was a dramatisation of a conversation between a disabled woman and someone offering support. In fact, it is the beginning of a therapy session and the woman with the notebook is the client. So begins ‘All of Us’ a new play at the National Theatre written by Francesca Martinez, who also plays therapist Jess, the main character, writes Katie Kelly.
I suspect I wasn’t the only person who had their prejudices revealed by this scene. If you think you might have made the same assumptions then this play is a powerful work of potential education. The story continues by exposing the systemic injustice faced in general by those who do not fit the mould of perfectly able-bodied, the ways in which this was made worse by austerity measures, and the many and varied societal barriers to them living a full life.
The acting and script are mostly strong. The three central characters are Jess, Lottie her gay and pregnant flatmate, and Poppy, a fierce and vibrant young female wheelchair user who ‘just wants to have fun’ but is reduced to a 9pm bedtime wearing a nappy, by the defunding of her night time care.
‘Nothing about us without us’ is the demand of those often minoritised by wider society and so it is great to see disability represented so richly at the National Theatre. The writing is provocative and at times humorous, with some great one-liners delivered particularly by Jess who manages the vicissitudes of life with grace and humour.
Strangely, this piece of political theatre lacked nuance and at times descended into stereotype and over-simplistic plot devices. It felt both too neat and slightly too long. Issues such as the sheer rage-inducing awfulness of the assessment process for PIP etc, the staggering death toll of people with disabilities from Covid, and the appallingly short time allocations of carers are headlined and personified. They would have increased in power if not jostling for position with the question of why people vote for a right-wing party that does not really care about them and why boarding school is a privileged form of child abuse.
I wanted more rage and more complexity. The play could have done with editing to provide more space for the arresting central performances and their stories to resolve in more believable ways.
National Theatre, South Bank, SE1 until 24th September. Times: 7.30pm; 3pm matinees. Admission: £20 – £61.
Booking: www.nationaltheatre.org.uk
