Nichola McAuliffe returns to the roles Arnold Wesker tailored for her in 1981 in a trio of wistful and insightful soliloquies about working-class women's inner thoughts, now staged at the Finborough theatre in London until 26 September. The production, which premiered at the Edinburgh fringe festival last month, reverses the original order of the three monologues, beginning with the youngest woman, Anna, and concluding with the destitute, elderly Annie Wobbler, a figure of universal sadness.
A trio of monologues, reordered
Wesker's three-character series, written in 1981, originally began with Annie Wobbler, a homeless elderly woman who wanders around London's Waterloo station, reflecting on her life in service, the changing world, and what she perceives as an ever-rising tide of “foreigners.” The subsequent women, whose names are variations on Annie's, each incorporate a specific question or inquiry into their lives. In this rejigged version, McAuliffe performs the series in reverse order, so Anna comes first.
Anna's monologue is an awkward mix of feminist commentary and self-loathing. She speaks of her critical mother, her establishment boyfriend—a disembodied voice played by Alex Jennings—and men in general. A university graduate with a French degree, albeit from a former polytechnic, she repeats in what seems like imitation of her boyfriend's snobbish judgment, she bears a distinct sense of imposter syndrome. If unfamiliar with the play, one might mistake Anna for a mature student akin to Willy Russell's Educating Rita. Some of her phrasing and insecurities sound over-egged and artificial, such as “I've got brains and black underwear,” and updated references to Chat GPT and the TV comedy Ann Droid do not prevent it from feeling dated.
Annabella and the haunting Annie
The next woman is Annabella, a celebrated novelist interviewed by an offstage male, voiced by James Naughtie, about her artistic process and the effects of fame. There are striking moments, and McAuliffe creates pools of reflection, but the character confusingly morphs from a Dubliner in a floaty gown to a Scotswoman in lycra and then a posh Englishwoman.
The destitute Annie of the final monologue is the most haunting. She seems like a figure risen from London's past, with an old-fashioned cockney accent, and thinks of herself as a seller of “bags of coal.” Yet there is also the universal sadness of a drunk woman living somewhere between her better past and this foggy present. She speaks of foreigners and Jews around her but seems less critical or xenophobic than confused by time and social change—Wesker was himself Jewish. She cuts a moving figure who could be from Dickens' time or found wandering around Waterloo station today.
Compassion and insight
The three parts do not seem contemporary nor particularly enlightening about the female condition, but they are curios and certainly show Wesker's compassion for, and insight into, working-class women. The production, directed with care, allows McAuliffe to shine in roles she originated over four decades ago, bringing a lifetime of experience to these women's voices. The Finborough theatre's intimate setting enhances the immediacy of the monologues, drawing the audience into each woman's world. The run continues until 26 September, offering a rare chance to see Wesker's work performed by the actor for whom it was written.
