The Confessions, National Theatre review ★★★★★

What makes a life extraordinary? Eighty-year-old Alice’s life might not tick the boxes in a conventional sense, but in putting her story on stage, playwright and director Alexander Zeldin (Faith, Hope and Charity) makes the point that all long lives are remarkable, really. It’s largely his mother’s story, shared with Zeldin over a series of conversations, but interwoven with it are the experiences of other women of her generation – women who lived a good deal of their lives in the shadows of the men they partnered.

At two hours straight through, it’s an intense ride that doesn’t let up until the end, and picks up momentum as it goes. Split loosely into three chapters, it follows the Australia-born Alice from a false start into adulthood, settling down with conservative naval officer Graham (a bristling Joe Bannister). She escapes a life of being sheltered and belittled, and finds her voice in a crowd of bohemian intellectuals. But a sexual assault from a ‘darling’ of her university faculty prompts a move to London and a third fresh start.

It’s here, in a city regarded with awe and suspicion by those from her hometown, that Alice meets Jacob (a fittingly awkward and gentle Brian Lipson), the man with whom she eventually starts a family.


The Confessions: Gabrielle Scawthorne, Jerry Killick, Joe Bannister, Eryn Jean Norvill

Alice in her younger years is played by Eryn-Jean Norvill, who highlights her character’s infectious warmth and vivacious curiosity for all of life’s experiences. Embodying present-day, mature Alice is Amelda Brown, with less stage time but one of the play’s most powerful scenes: following the aforementioned rape, a trauma which in Zeldin’s production takes place off stage and in respectful silence, Brown’s Alice imagines confronting her abuser, while both nude, to reclaim her body. It’s a raw and brave performance from both Brown and Bannister as her rapist, Terry.

All supporting cast members deliver commendably versatile performances playing the characters who come into Alice’s life. Special mentions to Pamela Rabe, who is spot on as both Alice’s jittery, uptight mum Peg and the blasé feminist Eva, and to Lilit Lesser who is convincing as Alice’s eccentric friend Pat and son Leander.


The Confessions: Amelda Brown. Photo: Christophe Raynaud de Lage

Much is made of the curtains cloaking Marg Horwell’s set design, which allow for impressively speedy and silent set changes, and act as a time portal for Alice when she slips into past portions of her life. A stage upon the stage frames moments in boxes, like we’re watching Alice’s recollections through a TV. These scenes are often undressed by stage hands in front of us, as if to show a memory fading, or to remind us it’s all a dramatisation.

Zeldin has written himself into it too, as Alice’s son Leander, who’s digging into his mother’s past. It’s not a rose-tinted vision of their relationship; at one point, Alice becomes distressed by all the looking back. But while a considerable amount of pain is shown, there is also humour throughout. Credit to Zeldin for striking this balance and for making what could have become a period piece feel current and urgent.

Alice may not have lived her life in the spotlight, but The Confessions leaves no question that her story is a remarkable one.