The Memory of Water | Liverpool Everyman
- James Tradgett (he/him)

- 11 hours ago
- 3 min read
There is no escaping the cruel, unrelenting mistress that is grief. It has the power to manifest itself in an endless flurry of ways, and no two individuals tend to handle it in the same way. Through her Olivier-winning play The Memory of Water, Shelagh Stephenson explores themes of grief, familial dynamics, and how memory in its purest form can prove unreliable, as expressed through three sisters’ contrasting recollections about their recently deceased mother.
Our three sisters, Catherine, Teresa and Mary, have reunited at their late mother Vi’s home in preparation for her upcoming funeral, a glamorous woman who, in her younger days, had all the men in the village chasing after her. This in turn led to her not necessarily being a shining example of a mother to her girls, with Mary in particular feeling the hardships of not having been sufficiently prepared for womanhood.

There are three definitive personalities on display, with headstrong and assertive oldest sister Teresa, high achieving middle child Mary, and bratty, licentious youngest sibling Catherine, each depicted marvellously by their respective performer. It is middle sibling Mary on whom much of the focus is retained though, as she is arguably the most profoundly affected by the passing of Vi, most notable through her having been a teen mother who had to give up her baby in the early 70s, which weighs heavily on her for much of the following 24 years.
Though there is plenty of good humour and banter between the sisters, as well as their respective partners, it never feels facetious or unwarranted, but rather expertly balances the ideas of mourning loss and taking comfort in the sharing of memories, as well as the inherent absurdity of how the three sisters each come to terms with the passing of their mother. The play makes use of everything from incessant bickering and excessive alcohol consumption, to near complete psychological breakdowns, to create a jarring yet contemplative atmosphere, making the humour employed seem openly welcomed to almost soften the blow.

Central sister Mary, who undoubtedly goes on the most intense journey, is portrayed by Polly Lister, who masterfully depicts the mental strain caused by her affair with married doctor Mike, as well as the fabricated memory she has created of her son, whom she spends much of the play lamenting. Victoria Brazier takes on the role of older sibling Teresa, who has clearly been holding the family together for years, and whose resolve is sorely tested. Brazier’s performance contains all the hallmarks of an unhappy housewife who’s been putting on a brave face for too long, and it’s expressed beautifully, and with real solemnity, even in the face of her character’s exorbitant consumption of whisky.
Taking on the role of younger sibling Catherine was Helen Flanagan, who is perpetually seeking attention and on the verge of a breakdown. This wasn’t always as convincing as her on-stage siblings, as occasionally Flanagan’s performance felt a touch monotonous and lacking in depth; she certainly had her moments to showcase her comic prowess, but never really displayed the same full-bodied quality we received from Lister or Brazier. In spite of this though, there was a delightful dynamic established between the three of them, and we are fully invested in their struggles and the strain put on their collective relationship.

Vi’s role may have been limited, but Vicky Binns clearly made every scene count, and there was a real poignancy about her posthumous exchanges with daughter Mary. Charlie De Melo as Mike charmed the socks off of everyone, and Reginald Edwards had no shortage of sarcastic apathy as Teresa’s long-suffering husband Frank.
Though one or two of the individual parts of this play were a touch lacking, the whole picture was well executed, and we ended up feeling rather close with this dysfunctional yet well meaning family.
The Memory of Water is remarkably grounded, and defiantly human, reminding us that grief is merely love continuing to grow. The Memory of Water plays at Liverpool Everyman until 14th March - tickets and more information can be found here.
★★★★☆ (4*)
Gifted tickets in return for an honest review | Photography by Pamela Raith





Comments