(the) Woman - Review

★★★☆☆

Jane Upton’s (the) Woman sets out to be a raw and unflinching look at the trials of motherhood and its effect on careers, friendships and self-identity, and while it certainly tackles these themes head-on, the production ultimately struggles to maintain its grip. The play features a strong cast led by Lizzy Watts and Supported by Jamie-Rose Monk, Cian Barry, and André Squire in multiple roles, the ensemble brings life and variety to a story that, at times, risks becoming lost in its messaging.

Woman in a white dress sits on steps, holding a baby under a spotlight. Dark background. Mood is serene and intimate. — Lizzy Watts as M

The premise is compelling. M (Lizzy Watts) navigates the shift from independent woman to exhausted mother, struggling with a career that no longer fits and relationships that don’t fulfill her. The frustrations of M’s life are punctuated with humour, making for some genuinely funny moments, particularly in the first half. Unfortunately, these comedic moments come at the expense of our connection with M, distancing the audience early on—especially when she casually leaves her baby with a stranger for sex in a van and reacts with surprising indifference when the child goes missing. As a result, the emotional weight of the second half doesn’t hit as hard as it should, because I never fully invested in M’s journey.

One of the play’s biggest strengths is its staging. The set is beautifully simple—a block, two stairs, two chairs, and a pushchair—used with versatility to create various locations. The Brechtian influence is clear throughout, from projections that mark the passing of time to the cast getting changed on stage and breaking the fourth wall. These techniques helped the audience understand that this play was not your traditional fly-on-the-wall autobiographical piece of theatre, but something more experimental.

Three people on stage; two seated on red chairs, pointing at each other, holding papers. One stands between them, gesturing. Green curtain backdrop. — Cian Barry, Lizzy Watts, and André Squire.

The performances are excellent. Lizzy Watts delivers a magnetic portrayal of M, balancing comedy and tragedy with remarkable ease. She has a natural command of the stage, drawing the audience into her world with sharp wit and well-observed physicality. There is something of a young Victoria Wood in her performance—quick, expressive, and always engaging. Jamie-Rose Monk is a standout in her various female roles, bringing humour and depth to each of them, while Cian Barry and André Squire brought life to the variety of the ‘generic men’ that were needed for the script to progress.

Two women sit on stage, toasting with wine glasses. One holds a bottle. They're dressed casually with a purple curtain backdrop, smiling. — Jamie-Rose Monk and Lizzy Watts

For all its strengths, the play’s writing occasionally works against it. The script is carefully constructed, but in its attempt to be ‘raw’, it actually feels overworked. There is an insistence on making the audience feel every frustration, every indignity, every unfair demand placed upon M, but this comes at the expense of subtlety. This over-explanation also extends to M’s struggles as a mother and writer. Rather than letting the audience experience her turmoil through action and dialogue, the play frequently tells us what to feel. We are reminded, again and again, how exhausting and isolating motherhood can be, but these moments lose impact when they are constantly spelled out. It is only in the quieter, more introspective and beautifully poetic scenes—when the script allows the performances to breathe—that the emotional weight truly lands.

Three people stand smiling on stage with blue vertical curtains. They're casually dressed, holding bags, creating a relaxed, cheerful atmosphere. — Cian Barry, Jamie-Rose Monk, and Lizzy Watts

The biggest question for me was: who is this play for? There is a clear attempt to speak to the experiences of mothers, and I have no doubt that some women in the audience related to M’s struggles. But there is a fine line between representation and generalisation, and at times, the script feels as though it is presenting one version of motherhood as the universal truth. I attended this performance with a mother of two who had lived a very similar experience to what was depicted on stage, yet she felt disconnected from the piece, believing it unfair to paint all mothers with the same brush. A little more room for moments of triumph or self-acceptance could have made the journey more engaging, allowing the audience to connect more fully with M’s story.

Ultimately, (the) Woman is a well-performed, creatively staged piece that brings one woman’s experience of motherhood to life with humour, grit, and honesty. The performances are the real highlight, elevating a script that, while engaging, sometimes feels too carefully constructed to be truly raw. While it may not resonate with everyone, it remains an interesting and thoughtful exploration of motherhood’s challenges. Those who connect with M’s story will likely find it deeply moving, while others may appreciate it as a compelling insight into one woman’s struggles. Either way, it’s a show worth seeing—thought-provoking, well-crafted, and brought to life by a talented cast.