A dark, volatile new play that asks if we can ever let go.
Reminiscing. Once a year to tell stories. To share little bits of our little lives.
A house by the sea. Teddy wants more light. He’s knocked that staircase down. Alison is soaked through. She’s livid. Clarissa’s ready to burst. They can’t keep meeting like this.
I had higher expectations considering Revolt and Anatomy of a Suicide, both by Birch, are two of my favorite plays. But this fell a little flat. I think the lead up dialogue was repetitive, vague, and made me feel out of the loop. I could not decide if the characters were insane or just were keeping secrets. In the end, a past traumatic event is what has driven the entire narrative and it felt rushed, uncommitted, and still vague in the wrong ways. The ceremony of the night felt strained, as in I wasn't quite sure what elements were part of the ritual of the evening - like the dead bird in the dinner? The monologue at the end for Teddy possesses Birch's poetic, stunningly vivid language and is painting a beautiful, haunting picture for us. That was the best moment. The rest was unsatisfying and the lack of resolution became anticipated.
The setting of Little Light is Alice and Teddy's seaside house in preparation for an annual family dinner with Alice's sister Clarissa. Inexplicably, Teddy began a major renovation, removing the central staircase in their home, immediately prior to the arrival of their guest.
The couple is clearly strained, a condition which is amplified by the arrival of a very pregnant Clarissa, and her announcement of of the impending arrival of her partner Simon. As the evening progresses, and the storm outside worsens, we discover the reason for this annual gathering, and the degree to which shared tragedy can even the closest of relationships.