The Bunker Theatre – until 4 May 2019
Reviewed by Claire Roderick
5*****
Angelique is seventeen and her mother is in prison while her father (or “sperm donor”) has moved on with his new family and is uninterested. Stuck in the care system, but now with a decent and fair foster carer, the main focus of Angelique’s life is her college floristry course and her dreams of becoming a success, with her own little shop so that she and her mum can be comfortable. Angelique’s boyfriend Mickey owes money to his gang leader, Rampage, and wants Angelique to help him cover his debts.
Written and performed by Emma Dennis Edwards, Angelique’s story isn’t, sadly, that unusual, but is told in an extraordinarily powerful and intimate way that deserves a wider audience. Dennis Edwards is an incredible performer, slipping between prose and verse, and in and out of different characters effortlessly. She draws the audience in through the first part of the play with her bubbly, honest and funny introduction to Angelique. As things get darker, this results in the audience being much more vocal with their gasps and tuts than usual, as if they were sitting listening to a friend chatting.
In Edinburgh, the play was presented in a flat, with a tiny audience following Angelique from room to room. The constraints of a more traditional performance space, and larger audiences means that this intense intimacy isn’t possible in the Bunker, but director Rachel Nwokoro has used the available space sympathetically. The usual side seating areas become performance stage areas for Dennis Edwards to move through, and some of the remaining seating is replaced by cushions. Audience members are invited up to try flower arranging, as Dennis Edwards watches in amusing despair, and when the action moves to Mickey’s flat for a party, the audience are invited down to sit on the stage around a mattress. This creates a fantastic feeling of community that swiftly changes to an uncomfortable and unnerving sense of voyeurism and horror as the events of the night are described.
Dennis Edwards holds the audience in the palm of her hand, capturing the innocent joy and peace Angelique finds in her beloved flowers – one of the only sweet things in her life – and her reluctant admiration for the two strong women in her life – her college tutor and her foster carer. Angelique’s struggle to deal with becoming an adult, and the pressure from her peers is portrayed beautifully, as is the evil, selfish manipulation of her boyfriend Mickey. Her performance as Mickey is inspired – the body language and the vocals conjuring up sneers and intakes of breath from the audience as Mickey tries to manipulate Angelique. The depiction of sexual assault and the consequent shaming of the victim is unsensational and brutal, and Angelique’s inability to tell anyone about what happened, and her self-disgust, are heart-breaking and send a vital message to those who question why victims don’t come forward.
There is no happy ending for Angelique, just her survival and her dream, always brightened up by her connection with her flowers. The doubt that she may just be a hopeless dreamer like her mum is strong, but you become so invested in this character, even after such a short time, that you leave hoping she finds her sunlight.
Brilliantly staged, written and performed, Funeral Flowers is an incredible, important and unforgettable piece of theatre. Simply phenomenal.