This Is London - 31 January 2020

16
The Welkin at the National Theatre.
A grid-like series of open-sided
rooms shows twelve women at their
individual tasks – all of them menial.
Churning butter, pounding laundry,
wringing sheets, mending clothes,
stirring cooking pots, feeding babies:
each is a familiar scene from 18th
century life, only here accentuated by a
rectangle of light, as if the past were
given a note of TV brightness.
You get the picture. Then drama
enters this mundane world in the form of
an invitation. Mrs Luke (Maxine Peake) ,
a woman who has assisted at the birth of
many in the village, is called upon to
join a ‘jury of matrons’ in the case of a
young woman who has already been
convicted of murder. Obviously, only
men could decide such a verdict in
1759. But the accused’s sentence could
be commuted from hanging to
transportation, should her claim to be
pregnant be upheld by the twelve
women.
It is a fascinating scenario, for this is
no courtroom drama. Instead of an
orderly verbal exchange presided over
by men of law, the twelve jurors plus the
Photos: Brinkhoff-Moegenburg.
THE WELKIN National Theatre
A woman’s work is never done’ could be the unspoken
subtitle to the opening scene of this striking new play by
Lucy Kirkwood.
condemned woman are locked into a
chamber by a clerk of the court who is
forbidden to say a word beyond asking
them for their verdict. They are deprived
of food, drink and heat to encourage
them. How will they decide?
Maxine Peake (Lizzy Luke) and Ria
Zmitrowicz (Sally Poppy) in The Welkin.
Though their methods be risible to
the modern mind (circling the woman to
peer at her stomach for any sign of
protrusion; questioning her about any
odd cravings; massaging her breasts to
see if any milk will come), they provide
an insight into female society at the
time. Superstition and jealousy on the
one hand, kindness and fortitude on the
other – women folk in a small country
town had tangled and conflicting
relationships and Kirkwood’s dialogue
captures every nuance.
Ria Zmitrowicz as Sally, the apparent
murderess, has an energy in her
performance which is as beguiling as it
is repulsive. She swears, she spits, she
snarls. She is not sorry for what she has
done. At the same time, she seems to
have suffered tremendously. And did she
really do it? We want to help her. We
want to punish her. The play draws us
into the judgement and ultimately
shocks us to the core.
Maxine Peake as the middling-sort-ofmidwife
who wins some and loses some,
also gives a heart wringing performance.
She is angry about the fate of Sally. But
she is more angry about the way the court
never stands up for women and how
women have precious little power, even in
the matter of childbirth.
Other characters are also finely drawn
and acted. There are no caricatures in
this play, even if some of their traits are
instantly recognisable. The sharp-witted,
the dim, the proud and the dishonest are
all in the room and it is hard for them to
agree. At the same time, it is often
hilarious to listen to their squabbles and
their rustic concerns. And we need every
flash of comedy, for in the end a
woman’s life is at stake and the tragedy
of her short, brutal existence is one to
weep over.
Sue Webster
T H I S I S L O N D O N M A G A Z I N E • T H I S I S L O N D O N O N L I N E