Sheffield playwright Leo Butler’s ambitious drama Living charts five decades of personal and political change in a sweeping state-of-the-nation tale.
In 1969, Kathy and Brian move into their home on Burngreave Road. A sparse set introduces their living room, and we rarely leave it as the years tick by. Domestic life unfolds as it so often does – children, fallouts, jobs, sex, illness and death – interwoven with national events heard on the wireless or seen on their television. From the moon landings to Orgreave, Vietnam to 9/11, the story stretches right through to the Covid pandemic and the war in Ukraine, all discussed – often in fiery fashion – by those in the room.
Kathy is the archetypal family anchor – a selfless, hardworking matriarch who carries on with seemingly inexhaustible resilience in the face of whatever life throws at her. As it turns out, that proves to be quite a lot. Liz White delivers a remarkable performance, ageing convincingly through the years and continuing efforts to provide succour to her family, often with little appreciation coming the other way.
While Kathy’s values appear to remain the same throughout, Brian (Ken Doughty) goes from left-wing nonconformist to suited and booted beneficiary of the Thatcher yuppie era, even as miners and steelworkers in Sheffield faced persecution from the same government. What Living captures incredibly well is how individuals are shaped over time by a mix of cultural influences, political change and the simple luck – or misfortune – of the hand they’re dealt. It’s a particularly resonant reminder in today’s increasingly polarised climate.
Look no further than the couple’s children, Mike (Samuel Creasey) and Rebecca (Abby Vicky-Russell). Despite growing up in the same household, their lives diverge along sharply different paths, leading them to radically opposing worldviews. It is a testament to the writing and quality of performance that proceedings never feel claustrophobic or dull. Instead, the audience runs the emotional gauntlet with the cast members, from roars of laughter at quips in a frequently funny script to gasps of horror when shown how cruelly loved ones can treat each other.
It’s a true tour de force of dramatic theatre. Despite its lengthy three-hour runtime, Living remains engrossing throughout, ultimately reminding us that while the outside world may frequently intrude, the things we can control are the relationships closest to us – and the stories we shape during our own brief sojourns through the decades.
4/5 JF
