Harry and Jo are in love. We are treated to a brief Richard Curtis celluloid moment when the happy couple are at their wedding, surrounded by confetti throwing mates doubling up as the chorus, sharing the tale of their union through song. Don’t be lulled into a false sense of security though, as we are instantly zapped fast forward five years where Harry wants to embrace her transgender identity and make things official, but Jo just wants to travel and escape from this new reality.
Chris Bush’s new play overflows with energy, empathy and joyous dance moves. It’s a story about women. “Love and connection between women... beyond time and across worlds,” not just about trans women. The playwright describes her latest work as “the most personal thing I’ve ever written.” Bush, who enthralled audiences at the National Theatre in 2023 with her story of three generations on a Sheffield housing estate, Standing at the Sky’s Edge, uses the same voice to create a sharply funny and sorrowful play. Harry may be ready for change, but the world around her hasn’t adjusted quick enough to understand her needs.
Then Jo throws the ultimate curveball, straps on a rucksack and heads to the Inca Trail where she falls into the arms of Gabby, who wants to have a baby with her. It’s an endearing and affectionate cameo, yet somehow deepens our empathy for Harry, who remains polarised, trying to reformat her life.
We are soon thrown into the mayhem of uncoupling. CDs are snapped in half, Harry is desperate to be taken seriously and struggles both in the workplace as an academic—she’s politely asked not to use the ladies' toilets and to step away from presenting her own research at a conference. Whilst at home, Harry’s mum fails to understand why she has to wait for a new passport to travel for a family party and demands she fly on her old, male-named passport. Except the medical powers that be require her to live fully as a female to qualify for treatment. The dialogue is witty and sad, as Harry is met with a barrage of misunderstandings as she navigates this change.
The pace is set by much singing and dancing from sassy musical numbers, robot dance routines and Ann Yee’s fabulous, upbeat clubbing choreography, and the second half then leaps into sci-fi territory, where Harry becomes a scaly sea creature and science boffin, banished by female elders brandishing flaming torches.
The success of the transition between the first half and second half of the play is thanks to the swift and physically attuned direction of Ann Yee, as the cast are constantly moving and totally embodied, whether they are physically changing and becoming pregnant or just moving through song.
Performances fizzle from script to stage. Jade Anouka’s Jo opens as a bubbly ball of fun, the perfect companion to the serene and controlled elegance of Fizz Sinclair’s Harry. There’s a quiet strength about her performance where acceptance, not a fight, is what she’s hoping to achieve. Then Amanda Wilkin bursts later onto the scene on Jo’s travels as Gabby, ramping up the energy onstage, and together they are dynamite, a brilliant contrast to the more reserved, thoughtful Harry.
Bush has spent eight years working on Otherland, and the power lies in its universality and a celebration of otherness. The play is not just about the trans experience, but explores a couple at a crossroads and all the questions this throws up, along with the chaos of dividing property and carving up lives, whatever the sexual status. Her writing is always emotively driven and digs out the idiosyncrasies in human relationships, so the characters feel familiar and, through such authenticity, their journeys are instantly relatable.
Bush is a brave and powerful playwright, and hopefully we don’t have to wait a decade for her next play.