The Welkin

The plot draws on an ancient tradition, where a jury of matrons (women with childbearing experience) were called upon to determine whether a female prisoner was pregnant. If it turned out to be true, she would be spared the death sentence. It is set in 1759 in rural Suffolk, and the twelve women, all from different backgrounds are chosen and must remain in discussion in a room until they make a verdict on Sally Poppy’s condition – a young, unhappy woman, accused of murdering a young, wealthy girl. They are prohibited from taking water or food or lighting a fire.

It could be seen as purely a courtroom drama, at first glance it could come across as a female version of Twelve Angry Men, but it isn’t that. Although most of it takes place in one room, there are moments where it reaches outside this for enrichment and context. The Welkin sounds ethereal, and witchery and devilry are dangled tantalisingly in front of us in this piece but is then yanked away, it wasn’t about that. There were also lots of talk of the comet and sending your eyes skyward, the word Welkin is apparently an archaism for the heavens, but again, it isn’t really about that either. It is about women and their labours…in all senses of the word. Hard working women, women’s bodies and their functions and their “place”. “Nobody blames God when there is a woman to blame instead” and director Kayleigh Smith flawlessly drove this message through the play and the characterisation.

MADs set design by Cameron Chandler, coupled with the artistic lighting provided by Andy Loxham and Mark Adams, immediately gave a feeling of confinement and accentuated these women’s limited freedom. Even the scenes preceding the courtroom felt claustrophobic and intentionally dim and the transitions landing eventually in the courtroom that they are sequestered in, were well thought out and creative. The direction of the whole play was highly impressive. The tableaux created and vignettes and important moments were captured brilliantly. The flow and pace were faultlessly placed and the dramatic devices (mini monologues to introduce the women, the singing, the modern nods) were handled with flair and deliberation, considering this is very obviously a naturalistic piece. Congratulations.

The part of Elizabeth Luke seems at first to be the lead, but as the play unfurls, it becomes obvious that The Welkin is most definitely an ensemble piece of work. That said, Lauren Nixon, who gave us Elizabeth was well equipped to lead. She had the gravitas and brought a knowing warmth to the role. Brattish, filthy, and deeply unlikeable was Sally Poppy played by Izzy Reid. Sally Poppy is a huge undertaking for an actress and boy did Izzy rise to the challenge, completely immersed in the role, so believable. It is such a task to pull off psychotic tendencies credibly. These two women were wonderful together and the final scenes were pleasingly captivating. Congratulations.

There is such a delight in witnessing a cast so absorbed in storytelling and characterisation and each such a team player. This play was satisfying in all those facts and when watching, one could forget this was an amateur production. It would be hard to mention all the actresses’ abilities individually, as there were so many and of the highest quality. Winsomeness, dimness, quiet dignity, haughtiness, gossips, holier than though types, one-up-manships, comradrades and more were all displayed by these fine actresses. This play was littered with peaks and troughs and was engaging to the last. It gathered momentum as the women provoked one other and life-defining secrets were exposed, consistently prodding the performers to display their acting chops.  This highly characterised cast kept the twelve women plus Sally and Coombes, played beautifully pompous and yet pathetic by Robert Copeland, all fully alive on stage and the obvious work that was put in paid increasing dramatic dividends. They took such pleasure in the unsophisticated yet poetic and anachronistic language. Relishing the humour with down to earth delivery made the whole thing richly textured when teamed with the emotional moments, the incredulity, the drama.  Quick final cast mention of George Reavey who put in two lovely turns as the accused husband, Fred Poppy and the delightful light relief, if you can say that about a character wielding a speculum and describing diseased body parts, Dr Willis.

The costumes also deserve a mention, so richly textured themselves and the shapes conjured were wonderful, each actress looked perfectly clad for their character and comfortable in the cloth. The fight scenes, directed by Roger Bartlett and the sentimental videography, created by Connell Costello, that tugged at the audience’s heart strings added extra flavour to an already tasty dish. The whole evening was intriguing, beguiling and full of first-rate performances…some kind of womanly witchcraft? No, hard work and talent. Well done!

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