Yen, Theatre Upstairs, Royal Court, London, review: Compassionate and witty study of growing up alone

Ned Bennett's splendid production is keenly alive to the play's flashes of bleak humour

Paul Taylor
Tuesday 26 January 2016 13:57 GMT
Comments
Sian Breckin
Sian Breckin (Richard Davenport)

Your support helps us to tell the story

This election is still a dead heat, according to most polls. In a fight with such wafer-thin margins, we need reporters on the ground talking to the people Trump and Harris are courting. Your support allows us to keep sending journalists to the story.

The Independent is trusted by 27 million Americans from across the entire political spectrum every month. Unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock you out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. But quality journalism must still be paid for.

Help us keep bring these critical stories to light. Your support makes all the difference.

Anna Jordan won the 2013 Bruntwood Prize with this terrifying, witty, and compassionate study of the awful penalties of growing up alone and without boundaries. Sixteen year old Hench and thirteen year old Bobbie have been left to their own devices by their alcoholic and diabetic mother who's gone to live with her latest boyfriend. The filthy Feltham flat has become a twilight world of shooting people on PlayStation and watching porn. The boys have one T-shirt between them and a neglected dog called Taliban imprisoned in the next room. Jake Davies's excellent Bobbie is hyperactive, evidently Mummy's favourite, cocky but fragile. Alex Austin's haunting Hench is scrawny, introverted and given to violent nightmares.

Then Jennifer, a dog-loving Welsh teenager from a neighbouring block of flats, played by the delightful if slightly too posh Annes Elwy, calls to complain about the mistreatment of Taliban. She's recently lost her father and, in her loneliness, befriends the boys and seems to open up a world of finer aspirations (there's an exquisitely touching scene where she shows Hench what she responds to sexually). Played on a traverse set with the boys swinging on zoo-like bars at either end, Ned Bennett's splendid production is keenly alive to the flashes of bleak humour, the sense of impending violence, and the tragedy of desperate emotional denial and inarticulacy.

To 13 February; 0207 565 5000

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in