You Are Here – Southwark Playhouse

Picture: Callum Heinrich

You Are Here continues at the Southwark Playhouse until 12 June 2021, with two live-streamed performances on 22 May.

Star rating: four stars ★ ★ ★ ★ ✩

In You Are Here – Southwark’s first offering in front of a live audience after lockdown – pocket rocket Wendi Peters is Diana, a suburban Chicago housewife who’s inspired by Neil Armstrong’s one small step to take one giant leap of her own.

Captivated by the heroics of the Apollo astronauts she watches on TV, dowdy Diana walks out of the safety and predictability of her home on an adventure to the big city – a voyage of discovery that, for her, is every bit as daring, and as alien, as Armstrong and Aldrin’s trip to the Moon. Over the course of the next few days, as humans take their first tentative steps on the lunar surface then begin their journey home, Diana wanders the streets of Chicago, making new friends and discovering more about the world, and herself, than she’s learned in her 50-odd years on Earth.

Composer-lyricist Neil Bartram and book writer Brian Hill – the creative team behind the low-key and (on Broadway, at least) short-lived The Story of My Life – originally conceived You Are Here as a one-woman show. Its journey began at Ontario’s Thousand Islands Playhouse in 2016, and now, reworked as a four-hander, receives its UK premiere at the Southwark Playhouse.

Peters is an inspired choice for Diana. She brings to life the timorous yet determined Diana, a bag of nerves who’s late-midlife crisis sees her following the Moon. Hill writes her as a complex, three-dimensional character, wrangling with mixed emotions and the voice of her reproachful husband ringing in her ears. Peters is such a compelling, engaging actress that she holds your attention throughout the 90 unbroken minutes – she’s a genuine star – and she’s got a voice that can cut through steel.

Joining Diana on her walkabout are the voices in her head and the various characters she meets along the way. These are fleshed out by Jordan Frazier, whose warm, empathetic Ruby – a “young, black and nice-smelling” hotel maid and philosophy student – helps Diana find work and welcomes her into her home; Phil Adèle as Daniel, a college dropout and Vietnam reject who now sleeps rough and gives Diana her first toke on a reefer; and Rebecca McKinnis is the sassy if shallow friend Joan, a popular socialite in whose shadow Diana undoubtedly slinks. All three supports give the show a welcomed dimensionality, and are best featured in the show’s funnest number, ‘Awkward’, a swaying bossa nova that plots Diana’s humiliating attempt to have a restaurant dinner for one.

Matthew Rankcom directs with a light hand, centring the action on Libby Todd’s pared-back but effective Moon-inspired set. Sitting above the stage is MD Laura Bangay’s three-piece band of keys, cello (Verity Simmons) and reeds (Hannah Lawrance).

Hill’s assured book provides a firm framework for the proceedings. The turbulent late-60s setting in Chicago, wracked by riots and political upheaval, is experienced by Diana and husband Gerard only via their TV set, and there are obvious parallels between her journey and that of the Apollo astronauts. The language is rich and evocative: Diana pictures the Sea of Tranquility as a comforting duvet, the astronauts are marshmallow men, and there’s the prescient observation that the Moon may seem beautiful and serene from a distance but up close, is a rocky, desolate place. As a conceit, this is a play that could well survive without the trappings of a musical.

The score, as charming and as well-performed as it is, is not quite as successful. I struggle to describe its musical identity, perhaps because it doesn’t really have one; the late-60s setting certainly hasn’t rubbed off. It doesn’t help that the plaintive combination of cello and clarinet gives too many of the songs a mellowness that leaves you itching for more variety. On saying that, there are some lovely introspective moments, such as ‘Is That Me?’, which Diana sings as she stares at her naked body in a bathroom mirror. Thankfully, though, there are just enough moments of levity (and strong performances across the board) to stop the piece becoming mired.

For me, Peters (can we call her a national treasure yet?) is a revelation, and for her performance alone, you should hand over that cash you’ve been saving by not visiting the theatre for the past six months. Even though I didn’t exit humming the tunes, I enjoyed the experience and would’ve stood for an ovation, had the rules allowed it (they don’t). It’s also refreshing to see a show written with a leading lady of this age in mind. It doesn’t really hold a candle to Grey Gardens, which is still one of my all-time top Southwark experiences, but it’s nonetheless a very welcome visitor.

Bravo, too, to the staff at Southwark for their reassuring efforts. The perspex screens are out in force which, while maybe a little claustrophobic for some, at least allows the stalls to fill out with a live audience. It’s good to be back.

Craig Glenday