The Cord @ Bush Theatre, Shepherd’s Bush, London
*Trigger warning — this play and review cover male depression, mention (though not in a detailed way) depression, suggested self-harm, suicide and neo/post-natal depression)*
A new theatre and a new part of town for me. The theatre itself is a bit choose your own adventure as there’s a lot of signage (though not to the theatre itself). Once inside, you sort of have to guess where the two theatres are — and even what you’re queueing to go into. It does mean you can have a magical mystery tour finding lavatories, and unintentionally the library, a water cooler, another theatre space! Similarly, the conveniently large street map places the theatre cozily right next to the Empire — which is an error of scale. But, there are kind security guards at both to guide you right.
Once inside, DON’T step on the lush plush pile carpet which covers the stepped stage, like a low-lying furry ziggurat. Especially if you’ve been capering in mud beforehand! Even the actors were in bare feet or socks. This is a serious thing. Having survived not stepping on the theatrical carpet (a bit like the ‘80’s classic Vortex in the space set The Adventure Game), you are in stepped blocks of seats to appreciate this intimate three hander play. It feels as though you are snooping on their conversations.
The acting in The Cord is first class — tense, emotional, gutsy, intense, gripping, edgy, narrative-driven. Though sold, from the publicity alone, as kind of ‘bunny boiling’ interfering mother-in-law over-mothers her son, his wife and her first grandchild, laying down the parenting law and not letting go, this isn’t the case at all. Instead it’s a very raw examination of new parenthood, parental depression, male post-natal depression (if this is the right term) and what it means to be a child, the adult son who is now a new parent of a son, of a mother with post-natal depression or even neo-natal psychosis. Even more, it explores parenthood, relationships and change in relationships between husband and wife and mother-in-law post-new baby. Though we never meet him, we get hints of how kind and caring Ash’s Dad is as he supported his suffering wife and young son. Ash’s Mum seems to spend a lot of time hiding — literally herself, and her real feelings, unexpressed emotions and thoughts.
At first, Jane (Lucy Black) is a doting granny and hands-off though encouraging mother-in-law. Her son Ash (Irfan Shamji) seems over concerned about his Mum and his parents’ marriage for much of the time. Anya (Eileen O’Higgins) has experienced what is normal but never talked about during births — tearing, stiches, soreness, difficulty breastfeeding until she’s guided in the right way. Their son thrives as they learn to be parents and ping-pong between their sets of parents. Anya’s Mum is a stalwart support, encouraging and present for her daughter. Ash seems to resent this — but is he more pent up with worry about his Mum stepping back from her granny duties.
Christmas is spent with Anya’s family at a lovely hotel. Ash staggers around in the rain trying to fnd signal and speak to his Mum — when he does, they seem to be having a dismal low-key Christmas and Ash’s worries build as he encounters his parents living separate lives more and more. He’s concerned that his Mum is hiding something — but on the phone, she’s fine.
Bijan Sheibani’s (like Roy Williams) writes in a naturalistic, real way — he’s really good on creating full characters and in depth. However, the play does slip into cliche at points — Ash wants to be intimate with his still very sore, very tired wife and sort of pushes her into it by nagging. It doesn’t work, because she’s healing and recovering still. He drives back late and too tired from his parents, exploding into angry rages, sulks and nearly crashing the car as he falls asleep at the wheel. Anya is horrified by the man her husband is becoming. The final straw is when he accidentally bruises his baby son’s head — or did he, in angry movements — and is sent to stay with his Mum.
The ‘shaken baby’ moment is there, but not really explored. Nor does this play do a service to the dirt tired parents, especially fathers, who are partners, who do their share, who carry the mental load and their fair share of household chores, who consider their partners and new babies, who care, who don’t force their tired, sore partners into unwanted sex, who don’t feel rejected or jealous when their partner’s focus is on the new baby. We’re sort of seeing the same kind of father that we’ve seen represented so many times before — where are the good, really tired fathers?
Ash is increasingly deeply insecure (without talking about it to anyone) and more and more in need of therapy. He clearly feels rejected and sidelined by the new child, although he does his share of holding and singing. Repeatedly he says that this is an important time for mother and baby and that the father’s time will come later as the child grows. He misses the point of his involvement now. Anya almost has to juggle two ‘children’ wanting her attention — and herself. But it’s not a competition.
But the secret he’s hiding is a painful and complicated relationship with his mother who (we never fully know, but from hints) clearly experienced really deep post-natal depression, maybe even psychosis and suicidal thoughts. Ash’s determination to get his parents involved in his son’s life — when he deep down suspects they don’t want to be — and fears the wounds that the birth will re-open for his Mum. It’s implied that she tried to hurt herself, and that as a young child, he was maybe aware of it — or even saw it. We see Jane miming some of her pain and despair in anguished howling, concealed from everyone.
Amazingly, there are no props. Everything is mimed, the cast beautifully hold ‘the baby’ and Ash drives a car. It’s really powerful. It’s also about two characters hiding emotions and secret thoughts from everyone else — even when Ash spends time with his Mum, they anxiously edge round each other. She berates him for not being good enough as a father and partner, he clearly feels inadequate and deeply tired, and sinks a bit lower. He’s also very, very concerned about what’s happening between his parents — what is really going on.
The truth teller in all of this is Anya, who is not afraid of being honest, speaking her mind, dialoguing with Ash — and trying to work out how he’s feeling, what’s going on. Ash does return home and reconcile, but as the audience you are left wanting to scream’ get professional help’.
Throughout, I thought how brave and bold the writer was to discuss male depression, tired new parents and how parents could harm their children. A little more time could have been spent developing these themes and I’d like to have seen Anya and Ash have a discussion about therapeutic intervention. By the end, Ash sort of seemed to realise how important he was to his son, not lesser, but you have to worry for them both about all those hidden emotions sloshing around. By the end, you think everyone needs therapy in this play to deal with all these unresolved experiences and emotions. We also feel how alone they are — they both have family at a distance or on the phone/via socials, but where are the neighbours, friends, community groups, NCT Mums?
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