If Ana-Maria Bamberger’s aim for One Whole Night is to stoke the fears and anxieties of female audience members over the age of 25 the speaking as one of them, I can say she has succeeded. If it weren’t for the brilliant humour and wonderful chemistry between the show’s two stars, I might’ve left feeling quite depressed, writes Caitlin Odell.
Hilarious, uncomfortable and in moments barely watchable, One Whole Night tells the story of a seemingly serendipitous meeting between actress Marisa and a benevolent doctor. We meet Marisa at an all-time low, having been cast aside by a long-term boyfriend for a younger counterpart. Through a manic opening monologue, we’re given a window into her personality, quickly learning that she is neurotic, childish and very funny, among other traits.
Marisa and Victor’s rapport is compelling to watch and, as for the audience, it’s all we can do not to immediately pin our hopes on a happily ever after, having watched Marisa in the depths of despair just moments before.
But what I admired about this story was Bamberger’s refusal to pigeonhole the play with an all-defining plot line or a dramatic twist, which at times felt as though it might be brewing. For me, this play was not about the plot at all, but instead about the people in it.
In a time where the pervading discourse concerning middle-aged white men is unfavourable, it was refreshing to see a more nuanced depiction of the male psyche. Whilst Victor is certainly not without his flaws, he too appears vulnerable, sensitive and caring. But Bamberger does well to remind us that as a relationship between any two people builds, there is inevitably much more at play than pure attraction.
Through Victor and Marisa’s brief entanglement, the author neatly captures the push and pull that occurs between two people who are exploring a connection sparked by desire but motivated by ego and want for validation. Even in Victor’s attempt to resolve the mess courteously, the minuscule breadcrumbs of hope he leaves behind for Marisa reveal his unwillingness to sever the tie completely. It is this that steers the play away from following a one-dimensional narrative about a lonely middle-aged woman’s yearning for love.
Instead, we are shown that in the relationship domain, regardless of gender, profession, social status or age, all adults are governed by the wants and needs of their inner children. And whilst this might sound like old news, the way Bamberger effortlessly embedded this within the arguably pessimistic narrative, left me feeling thoughtful, amused and weirdly, not depressed in the slightest.
White Bear Theatre, 138 Kennington Road, SE11 4DJ until December 2nd. Times: Tues – Sat 7.30pm; Wed & Sat matinees 3pm. Admission: £17, £14.
Booking: www.whitebeartheatre.co.uk
