Girls and Boys

Nottingham Playhouse

13^th February, 2025

“In general”

I find it striking how some of the most affecting and engaging pieces of theatre I’ve seen are written for solo performers, particularly women: Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s Fleabag (2013), Gary Owen’s Iphigenia in Splott (2015), Suzie Miller’s Prima Facie (2019). I can now add to this Dennis Kelly’s Girls and Boys, which had an initial run at the Royal Court with Carey Mulligan in 2018. Now receiving its regional premiere at Nottingham Playhouse, starring the city’s own Aisling Loftus, Anna Ledwich’s production carefully unpacks Kelly’s monologue about the traumatic effects of male violence.

“I met my husband in the queue to board an easyJet flight and I have to say I took an instant dislike to the man.” This is the first line in a direct ‘chat’ (as the script refers to them) with the audience. It’s at the beginning of an exchange about the meet-cute with her husband, which introduces us to the character and her background. She’s messy, occasionally confrontational, sometimes self-destructive, spontaneous and astutely observational. A trip to Italy (after three misguided days spent in Southampton) was the result of her resolving to end a period in her life which she refers to as her ‘drinky, druggy, slaggy phase’. A hilarious anecdote about being pushed into a puddle of puke during sex with her flatmate prompts her to reflect that ‘when a sentence like that appears in your life, you know it's time to start looking at your choices’. So here she is, about to board her flight, when she meets her future husband and father to her two children.

Through a series of chats and scenes with her two young children (who Loftus mimes and has conversations with but we cannot see), Kelly slowly builds a detailed picture of this woman’s life. Yes, there are struggles with work and family, but overall, they’re both driven in their careers, have a healthy relationship, and two funny and inquisitive children. Their portrait of happiness is exemplified in the design. Janet Bird’s set, warmly lit in a pink glow by Matt Haskins, has the tell-tale signs of success: an open plan kitchen with a hint of an extension, an island, and chic furniture. And a big reason we warm to this person and her life if because of Loftus’ thrilling performance. In her hands, the character is open, personable and down-to-earth. She revels in the humour of Kelly’s writing, enjoys the light-hearted opportunities to connect with the audience, and takes the time she needs to expose vulnerabilities. Barefoot on the stage, she gives an uninhibited performance that draws us in. And the more we’re drawn in, the bigger the shock when she breaks the fourth wall to reveal something which upends our understanding of the play and its use of dramatic license thus far.

For the remainder of the play, Loftus considers carefully what and how to reveal harrowing aspects of the story, hitting the emotional beats excellently. I don’t want to spoil the plot, but it’s interested in violence specifically at the hands of men. In many ways, this isn’t a shock turn of events as Kelly peppers references throughout: Her toddler loves to pretend play at dropping bombs on his sister’s skyscrapers; she and her husband argue over a mass shooting on the news; she works on a documentary about the failure of patriarchal society and society’s lineage of male violence. Whether through despotic dictators, boisterous toddlers or elderly eccentrics, male violence is a thread throughout.

Statistically what happens shouldn’t be a shock but still is. Afterall, as Kelly highlights several times, ‘any objective look at our world would have to conclude that men are, in general, absolutely cocking awful at being in power: in general’. But the force at which violence is now in this domestic sphere whereas before it was elsewhere – in history, in America, in make-believe – is shocking. The script is well crafted, and on reflection filled with foreshadowing and recalls which flip our perspective of certain lines. ‘This talking, moving dirty-puddle of a man?’ is an abject, almost-physical reaction to her husband, in which the word puddle recalls its humorous use in the anecdote about her flatmate in the opening scene. And there’s a line from the story about the airport queue (‘if that old bitch tries to cut in I will drop her and stomp on her neck’) which is clearly a joke but perhaps foreshadows details later on which are heard in a different context.

Girls and Boys is another success for Nottingham Playhouse after The Children and Dear Evan Hansen last year – a gut-punch of a play which will have you reflecting on our world and Loftus’ performance long after.

Girls and Boys plays at Nottingham Playhouse until 1^st March. For more information please visit https://nottinghamplayhouse.co.uk/events/girlsandboys/ 

Aisling Loftus in Girls & Boys. Photo by Johan Persson.