Review: BACKSTROKE, Donmar Warehouse
Photo credit: Johan Persson
Some plays grab you with big, dramatic moments. Others work their way under your skin quietly, lingering long after you’ve left the theatre. Backstroke, written and directed by Anna Mackmin, is firmly in the latter category.
Backstroke is essentially a story about roles reversing. Beth (Celia Imrie), a fiercely independent free spirit of a woman, is grappling with dementia (and, later in the story’s timeline, although it’s the first thing we see in the play, the aftermath of a stroke), while her daughter Bo (Tamsin Greig) is reluctantly pulled into the role of caregiver. It’s a familiar dynamic – one that many in the audience will recognise – which makes the play’s quieter moments hit hard. The resentment, the guilt, the moments of laughter that catch you off guard… it’s all there, and it feels heartbreakingly real.
Mackmin’s writing shines in the way it captures these shifting emotions, and the play isn’t just about illness; it’s about identity, about what happens when the person you’ve always relied on suddenly isn’t who they were, even if they weren’t all that reliable in the first place. There’s humour, too – often the kind that comes in the most painful moments – giving the piece a depth of emotion that makes it much more than just a story about decline, old age, and death.
That said, Backstroke does have a tendency to circle the same emotional beats, and some scenes feel slightly drawn out, coming back to similar conflicts in different ways. While this repetition adds to the sense of being stuck in an emotional loop (which feels true to real life), it does mean that parts of the play feel longer than they need to be.
What elevates Backstroke beyond its slower moments is the sheer brilliance of its two leads. Casting Tamsin Greig and Celia Imrie together is a stroke of genius because they play mother and daughter so effortlessly, with all the unspoken history and tension that entails. Greig, as Bo, brings her signature mix of intelligence, wry humour, and vulnerability. She’s an actress who can break your heart with a single glance, and she does just that here, particularly in the moments where Bo lets down her defences and reveals just how much she’s struggling.
Imrie, meanwhile, is formidable. As Beth, she’s stubborn, caustic, and, at times, almost infuriatingly independent, until the cracks start to show. Watching her fight against the reality of her new limitations is gut-wrenching, but Imrie never lets Beth become a tragic figure. Instead, she infuses her with such fire and spirit that you’re rooting for her even when she’s at her most difficult.
Something else that sets this apart is the use of pre-recorded scenes that play out on a large screen, helping the audience understand just a little more than what’s being said – because no one ever really says everything they want to, even if that leads to regrets in the end. One particularly emotional scene of the two women swimming together was a beautiful thing all by itself, even without the context of the rest of the play, and credit should go to Gino Ricardo Green (video designer) and Damian Daniel (cinematographer).
Ultimately, Backstroke isn’t a play of big revelations or shocking twists. It’s a play that sits with you, making you reflect on your own relationships, your own fears, and your own inevitable future. And while it could have benefited from a slightly tighter structure, its emotional honesty and the sheer brilliance of Greig and Imrie make it a deeply moving experience.
At its heart, it’s a story about love – messy, complicated, infuriating love. About the things we say and the things we don’t. About how time changes everything and nothing at all. And with performances as nuanced and heartbreaking as these, it’s impossible to walk away unmoved.
**** Four stars
Reviewed by: Lisamarie Lamb
Backstroke plays at London’s Donmar Warehouse until 12 April, with further info here.
