little scratch is the first novel in the impressive career of Rebecca Watson. It takes us through a single day in the life of a woman in the aftermath of an assault, attempting to, in the simplest terms, carry on. We are not just with this unnamed character but within them. At times, it is like we are some kind of imaginary friend to them and at others, it is like we are them and along with her, we get pulled and pushed and turned inside out through an intimate demonstration on themes of gender and mental health; the crowd figuring out gradually how close it was: the when, the where, the who, and clearly very close to home for Watson.

It's clear the effort that goes into a show like this. Miriam Battye’s ability to create a stage adaptation which goes just far enough is nothing short of flawless and we are left in awe at these people who let themselves feel this, all of this, every day, as they look out to us and clearly see the impact landing. 

It’s hard not to feel a little apprehensive when before you sit down. You are handed a card displaying a carefully curated list, also carefully designed in attempt to make it look less intimidating, of the elements of the show that could be triggering. For some of you, just to hear a show described as ’alternative’ may cue your teeth to clamp shut in a loose grimace and your eyes to drift aside as you consider and reconsider whether this is something you want. It is true that this show is hard to get through in more ways than one. However, we urge you to push ahead with it. We feel so glad and lucky to have seen it. 

Taking our seat and looking up at a simple set of microphone stands, lights overhead each one, immediately gives a sense of the context of this production - to be seen and to be heard is extremely important. As the show progresses, brilliant lighting design by Bethany Gupwell acts to reflect the changing energy and a subtle fading allows us to release a breath we didn’t realise we were holding. 

The play works almost like a literal depiction of a scatter-brain, of a scrambled head. We are grounded in this storm of rushing thoughts and emotions with a sense relatability. Throughout the duration of the play, you find yourself truly inside the mind of a women through thoughts that we unfortunately have to take into account sometimes in life, only this time the worst case scenario is real. Things that we, and undoubtably a number of other people in the room, saw and thought ‘I do that’, ‘I have felt that’, layered with a flipped perspective is a powerful combination.

Those thoughts and feelings we have as human beings and find so difficult to articulate, to the point where we think no one will ever fully understand, are somehow perfectly summed up in Watson’s words. Whether it’s the voices we give to people in our minds or the things we imagined saying but never did. The witty responses, the inner conflict, overthinking, intrusive thoughts, multitasking. The logic, the character, the emotions. The thought it takes to get through.

The show is structured in waves. Build, release, repeat. Time warps around welcome moments of humour and dreaded moments of pain. Highs you want to stay in forever, smiles broken, twinkle returning to your eye and then lows like dark ditches made all the more heavy by the soft, light feeling left behind, that ‘not again’ kind of feeling. It’s a pattern, just not a pleasing kind like most. It is a genius recipe for hope and sympathy and it works wonderfully.

We are led through these heartless waters by four extremely talented speakers: Eleanor Henderson, Rebekah Murrell, Eve Ponsonby and Ragevan Vasan. The thoughts are split between them the way they bounce around your head in real time. Have you ever really tried to stop thinking? It’s impossible. That’s what you get, that capacity for the millions of thoughts that can exist in one head at one time. No wonder it takes four voices to play one person. They all bring something different, and much needed, to the show. There’s the face of humour, the face for connection - the anchor when the waves get too intense, there’s the leading voice and the voice which truly oozes talent with every word. Even more incredible, they interact effortlessly without a movement, without even a glance, towards each other. A full stream of consciousness and yet still very well thought out, poetic and just spot on.

little scratch, when it comes down to it, is largely a piece of spoken word. The voices interweave, interject and link but somehow a wonderful flow remains, non-stop and fluid. From the start, they speak with rhythm and depth. The all important pace and timing that they achieve, as well as incredible voice manipulation and control, is the winning feature of the production. Overall, beyond the show-stopping true human experience, little scratch is a lesson on the power of words.

Clearly made a forefront element from the first instant of the performance, sound is expertly designed and controlled across the duration of the show - simple choices making clear distinctions between the inward and the outward world, allowing for an almost literal exploration of ‘digging deep’. A perfect score by Melanie Wilson helps to indicate those feelings that seem to come from another place, the dark cloud that drifts in and, hopefully, fades away. Somehow, here, music encapsulates drama, darkness, anticipation, calm, relief and even silence itself. 

Setting this production aside are the live sound effects performed using props. The result is an audience on the edge, the edge of discomfort, the edge of sensory overload. This clever exploration of a new way to demonstrate an overwhelmed and panicked feeling pushes the show into a new box.

Although, at surface level, the only sense built upon is sound, the words paint a picture that we observe. You leave the theatre having stimulated the mind’s eye, feeling it on your body. Heart in throat, skin crawling. It might be one of the only theatre experiences where the fact that you want it to be over means they have done it right. There is a worry that you may not be able to shake what you have experienced but then the amazement at what they have achieved sinks in and that is the only feeling left. 

A well-worded depiction of what is too often unspoken.

***** Five stars

Reviewed by: Louisa Clarke

little scratch plays at New Diorama Theatre until 13 May, with further information here.