Neil Anthony Docking’s play The Revlon Girl is set in Aberfan, six months after 116 children and 28 adults were killed in the disastrous landslip in October 1966.
The place is above a pub, in an upstairs room with a leaking skylight. This not only adds a constant sound design of dripping water, but also reminds us that the pile of colliery spoil that engulfed Pantglas Junior School was saturated by heavy rain and piled directly on an underground spring.
The event is a make-up demonstration by a representative from Revlon, for the bereaved mothers of Aberfan. Sian, Maralyn, Rona, and Jean have their own stories to tell, as well as keeping up appearances – “we’ll say she’s from the WI, or the Red Cross”.
From a light and amusing opening, where Sian bustles around with nervous energy, the play turns with great skill and tact to the pain of losing a child, and how each woman has found it has impacted her life.
Sian’s husband no longer looks at her with desire. Jean, the vicar’s wife, finds solace in prayer. Rona copes with earthy sarcasm and barely suppressed rage. And Maralyn is utterly lost.
The talk and demonstration are secondary to all this, but allow moments of community and even levity despite the truth of a horrific situation where surviving children have no one to play with, and you can get more compensation if your house was destroyed than you do for the loss of a child.
Maxine Evans, the director, lets the story unfold quietly, with key passages delivered without flourish. She balances the humour and the tragedy of The Revlon Girl so you can be laughing, gasping with shock, or holding back a tear within a matter of minutes.
The four women are defined by their place in the village, but their differences and squabbles can still find an outlet. Often this energy is turned on ‘Revlon’, a woman they see as an unwanted outsider who has no place with them.
A wide stage setting means you have to be aware of what is going on across the room. When a conversation is happening, a bit of business matters elsewhere. Notably, the name of Aberfan is never mentioned, but with the 60th anniversary of the disaster taking place last week, it is firmly in people’s minds.
The performances are top class and deeply convincing. Charlotte Gray’s devastating Sian, nursing the child-shaped hole in her life. Hedydd Dylan’s mousy Maralyn, full of fear and seeking closure. Mirain Haf Roberts’ brash Rona, who hustles for revenge. And Llinos Daniel’s pragmatic Jean, burying grief under the will of God.
Antonia Kinlay’s Revlon Girl is a model of restraint and awkwardness, trying to navigate the dynamics and awkward silences in the room. Her tray of products, flashy car, and mention of having a TV don’t endear her to the miners’ wives, but that isn’t the whole story.
The Revlon Girl is a powerful piece of drama that respectfully touches on an event that wiped out a generation.
I’m giving this 4.5 stars.
The Revlon Girl continues at Park Theatre 90 until 14 Nov.
Photo credit: Maxine Evans