Things I Know to be True - ODN Review
40th Anniversary Festival participant
Abingdon Drama Group
Things I know to be True by Andrew Bovell
Andrew Bovell’s Things I Know to Be True is one of those plays that feels incredibly real. It follows the Price family over the course of a year as each member deals with life’s twists and turns, exploring themes of love, family, identity and the sometimes difficult balance between supporting the people you love and letting them find their own way. It’s a beautifully written piece, but it’s also a brave choice for an amateur dramatic society. It’s incredibly emotional (in fact they were offering tissues on Front of House!) – everything depends on believable relationships, honest performances and a cast that can handle the play’s emotional highs and lows.
Visually, the production had much to admire. The simple kitchen unit formed the heart of the family home and became a natural focal point for many of the play’s most important moments, while the small rose garden at the front of the stage was a lovely touch. My only reservation was that, at times, the stage felt just a little busier than it needed to be. The suspended illustrations of the shed, tree and kitchen items, I personally felt a little distracting, drawing the eye upwards when the real focus should always have been on the actors and their relationships. With so much of the drama resting on the relationships between the family members, I found myself wanting the playing space to be a little more open, allowing the cast greater freedom of movement and ensuring the audience’s focus remained firmly on the performances. The two-seater garden bench occasionally restricted the action, but these are relatively minor points. The lighting was excellent throughout, subtly shifting with the changing moods, and the carefully chosen music complemented the action beautifully.
The casting was excellent, with every member of the ensemble contributing to a family dynamic that felt utterly believable. The opening scene, as Rosie returns home, immediately drew the audience into the rhythms of family life, with the warmth, humour and easy interactions making it feel as though we were simply watching a real family going about their everyday lives.
Cecil Alexander gave a wonderfully assured performance as Rosie, the youngest daughter whose return from Europe after a failed relationship sets the story in motion. Her opening monologue was delivered with honesty and warmth, and throughout the evening she charted Rosie’s emotional journey with great sensitivity. From heartbroken traveller to cherished baby sister, from the naïve belief that her family was happy and secure to the bewilderment of seeing everything she thought she knew begin to unravel, before finally reaching a quiet acceptance of change, every stage of that journey felt authentic and believable.
Dave Fardon was equally convincing as Ben, the youngest son and unmistakably his mother’s favourite. His expressive facial reactions often spoke louder than words, perfectly capturing Ben’s initial focus on money and success while hinting at the insecurities beneath the surface. It was a performance full of small touches that made the character feel genuine rather than stereotypical.
Chris Bedford faced perhaps one of the play’s greatest challenges as Mark, whose lifelong struggle with identity ultimately leads to his transition to Mia. It is a role that demands enormous emotional honesty and sensitivity, and Chris handled it with real nuance and dignity. He never overplayed the character’s pain or vulnerability, allowing the audience to understand both the courage it took to embrace his true self and the shock and confusion experienced by the family around him. It was a thoughtful and deeply affecting performance.
Rebecca Peberdy was superb as Pip, portraying the outwardly successful high achiever whose seemingly perfect life masks a deep sense of dissatisfaction. Her portrayal of Pip’s strained relationship with her mother was beautifully judged, with every confrontation simmering with years of unresolved frustration. Her monologue and the reading of the letter were particularly affecting, delivered with quiet honesty rather than melodrama. It was an understated performance, but one that packed a real emotional punch.
Maria Crocker was perfectly cast as Fran, the formidable matriarch around whom the family revolves. Sharp-tongued, fiercely practical and utterly devoted to her family, Fran’s flaws were as evident as her strengths. Her tendency to favour and protect her younger children while struggling to understand her older ones created much of the play’s conflict, yet Maria ensured she never became unlikeable. Instead, she presented Fran as a woman doing her best, often getting it wrong, but always acting out of love. It was a commanding performance that drove the narrative from beginning to end, making the void she leaves behind all the more profound.
Jon Crowley provided the perfect counterbalance as Bob, the quiet, dependable patriarch whose steady presence holds the family together far more than anyone realises. Where Fran dominates, Bob observes; where she confronts, he quietly absorbs. Jon’s restrained performance was exactly right, proving that stillness can be every bit as powerful as the most dramatic outburst. The final scene, as the family prepare him for Fran’s funeral and he silently reveals the depth of his grief, was heartbreakingly moving. Without saying very much at all, Crowley conveyed the devastation of a man who had lost not only his wife, but the person around whom his entire life had revolved.
Director Lin Crowley deserves enormous credit for keeping the focus exactly where it needed to be –on the relationships at the heart of the Price family. In a play that relies almost entirely on emotional truth, it would have been easy to overcomplicate matters, but Crowley trusted both the script and her cast, allowing the characters and their interactions to drive the story. The result was a production full of believable family dynamics, where every conversation, argument and embrace felt genuine.
It takes courage to choose a play like this, but it also takes an enormous amount of trust – the cast trusting their director’s vision, and the director trusting the cast to dig deep and deliver performances of real honesty and vulnerability. By the end, it was clear just how much they had given. The cast looked physically and emotionally drained, and, if the silence in the auditorium was anything to go by, so were we. Theatre doesn’t always have to leave you smiling as you walk out; sometimes its greatest achievement is to leave you feeling something. This production certainly did that.
Well done Abingdon Drama Club!
