★★★☆☆
UCL Drama Society’s original play 'Petrichor' follows Frances, played by Natasha Raphael. She is a graduate trying to outrun her problems in the French countryside, with the play circling around her relationship with the source of much of her anguish: unrequited love interest Harri.
It is performed in Bloomsbury Studio, a downstairs, intimate theatre space offering a refined but effective set, with wooden chairs, plants, a washing line, and plenty of wine creating a genuine sense of a French summer which took me far away from an autumnal British evening.
The first act (Air) sees Frances’ family visit her, and a late night conversation with her dad reveals the first cracks in Frances’ mental state. Unfortunately, the father-daughter relationship here was not obvious until it was made blindingly clear too late in the scene.
Frances and her sister, Martha, enjoy a countryside walk, and have moments of realistic, funny sibling banter. Megan Horne embodies Martha’s short appearance very well, though both sisters seemed to struggle with an uncomfortably long silence in a reflective moment on their walk. What they were reflecting on was not abundantly clear.
Unfortunately, the content of the first act felt unnecessary to the rest of the play, with the script not serving its actors given the reasons for Frances’ sudden departure from London are explored more thoroughly and engagingly later.
However, the act does introduce the use of voice notes from Harri (Amelia Beggs), who we meet physically two whole acts later. Frances listens to these missives only when she is alone at night, and Beggs pulls them off very realistic online conversation between young friends.
This was a unique and enjoyable method which boosted Petrichor’s quality, and increased the sense of anticipation of Harri’s eventual arrival.
Act 2 (Earth) saw Frances’ friends arrive. Carmen Parilla Santander gives the best performance as Emma, with her sensitive emotions carried very convincingly on her face, even when the script at times lets her down with overly saccharine sentimentality.
The most engaging scene of the play saw the friends sitting together by the fire, with the group clearly bouncing off each other and establishing a genuine sense of connection which is not always apparent in one-on-one scenes. The writing of overlapping speech and diverging conversations among a larger group is also the high point of the script.
Act 3 (Fire) sees the play’s tension rise to its highest point as Harri finally arrives and the water under the bridge between Frances and her becomes palpable. Once the other friends depart and they are left alone, an awkward day turns into a furious argument, which was a standout moment acted far better than their more tender moments together.
As their mismatched ideas of their relationship are made clear, Frances kicks Harri out amid a thunderous downpour as the final, short fourth act (Water) begins. Frances is left alone in her rural home, and lets out a guttural scream, which was very effectively acted.
Natasha Raphael has a lot to pull off with Frances, being on stage for almost every minute of the play, and hers is an impressive performance.
The quality of the play rises and falls quickly, with the angry and sad moments far surpassing the sentimental or humorous ones.
Most notably, the friends joke about a depressing graduate job market and lament not seeing each other enough after university. This conversation is probably the most dull given it is written and performed by current university students who do not portray post-university life convincingly enough.
‘Petrichor’ lists Sally Rooney and Dolly Alderton as inspirations in its promotional post, but given the play follows an intimate cast of friends and lovers who miscommunicate to their own detriment, Rooney in particular may be more of a crutch than an influence.
With some reworking of its romantic relationships and a reimagined opening act, Petrichor could be far better. For now, it is a play with an interesting concept which is not realised to its full potential.
It doesn’t bore, but it certainly frustrates.