Abbie Lowe
Float (co-written by Kirby Thompson and Orla Graham, co-directed by Kirby Thompson and Caoimhe McGee) comedically traces through what it means to live with your best friends in your early twenties whilst simultaneously exploring the heart-breaking complexities of the aftermath of assault.
Float comes in with a punch as you enter the shipping container-style venue, with pulsing lights and 2010s classics on the speakers. When you take your seats the actors immediately engage you in conversation about the party they’re throwing, asking questions and chatting with you as you start to get comfy. This energetic hit of a preset immerses you immediately, and reveals portions of the characters personality before the house lights even go down, and sets the perfect tone for what is about to follow.
As the play kicks off we follow four friends at their university house – Erin (Ellen Andrews), Caitlyn (Orla Graham), Grace (Leah Williamson), and Mia (Annina Noelle Watton) – as they throw a rager house party. From the first scene it is easy to see the intimacy of the characters and the relationship not only acting as a group of four, but also one to one. The lighter, upbeat tone of this sets a precedent of comedy that follows through and is called back on throughout. When the party starts to wind down we see Erin leave the stage in good spirits but ready to head to bed in preparation for a big presentation the next day. When she later returns the tone shifts into something more sombre.
Following on, we see the play narrated in a mix of therapy sessions, scenes at home, and monologues from her friends. Mia takes the heavy lifting of this narrative, as a sensible and sensitive hand to hold the topic, and as Erin’s oldest friend. When I saw this begin I was concerned the external narration would remove Erin’s voice from her own experience, but as the play progresses it is clear the writers have thought carefully through this. Mia, Caitlyn, and Grace act as Erin’s voice when she doesn’t feel strong enough. It is a clever plot point that allows her the time and space to process what has happened until she is ready to talk herself, mimicking the dialogue. The focus this script gives to putting the agency into Erin’s hands is phenomenal. She talks as she wants to, her friends allow her to reach conclusions and actions of her own accord, while still being present and fighting each day at her side. By the end of this piece you can see the benefit of this, travelling through the anger and acceptance that this will not change her.
Ellen Andrews gives a captivating performance as Erin. She shows the weight and the journey of getting it lifted away perfectly through subtle emotion in both her face and voice. Following a scene where she had seen the perpetrator again for the first time, Andrews’ performance was beautifully honest, and made me want to stand on stage with her and scream.
Alongside the main story we follow Grace through conflicting feelings. Trapped between her best friend and her boyfriend we see how her personal romantic relationship is affected and reflected. I loved this as an addition to Erin’s journey, depicting a separate path of having to heal and learn.
Near to the end there is a gorgeous moment in the show where the characters narrate together the importance of holding your friends and working with them to heal, that the cycle isn’t linear, and even if you feel like you are about to sink there will always be a light at the end of the tunnel to help you float again. As someone who can connect to this story it brought me to tears and I felt a moment of catharsis that held, heard and understood me.
This is all accompanied by skillfully simple lighting and sound by Ronan McManus. There are repeated musical motifs throughout that underscore the journey of heartbreak and healing beautifully. The lights flick between neutral washes and playful pinks, later emphasised by Erin saying that after the incident she saw the world in black and white, but healing with the hand holding of her friends and therapist the joy bleeds back in dusty pinks.
Float carries the audience gently. I enjoyed that there is no shock factor, there is no mention of violence or how it happened, there is no push for gory detail or a huge reveal. It feels respectful to Erin’s character, as well as to victims of assault. It places the importance on healing, feelings, therapy and friendship rather than picking apart the story for whether it is ‘worthy’ or to appeal to morbid curiosity.
This show feels like the warm cup of tea you wrap your hands around after your first bump when you’ve just passed your drivers test, or the comfort food cooked for you in a uni house kitchen after a family death. It recognises the bubbling of inner turmoil and gently holds your hand as it comes to the surface, reassuring your feelings are valid, and repeating that it will be okay. Float makes you want to hold your friends closer and never let go, encouraging reflection towards times you’ve felt like you’re slipping away but they have pulled you to the surface again. I cannot gush about this show enough.
Recommended Drink: The drink I would recommend would be an Echo Falls Rose. This is to be shared with close friends until you’re feeling fuzzy inside, reaching the point where you can tell them you love them instead of leaving it unspoken.
Float is on 1st-25th (not 7th, 13th, 20th) at Assembly Roxy Outside at 12.05, with a relaxed performance on the 15th, you can find tickets on the EdFringe website.
Photo Credit: Rachel Foran
Jake Mace
