JADAR

A death in the family leads to an abrasive reunion between two estranged sister-in-laws, unearthing a host of troubling family secrets. Christine Mackie’s (Coronation Street) KIN takes to the stage this week at HOME, featuring fellow Coronation Street stars Roberta Kerr and Kerry Willison-Parry. It’s a true Corrie takeover!

Steph (Willison-Parry) is the youngest sister in the McGregor family, and Kay (Kerr) is the new widow of Steph’s older brother. Together, they unravel the secrets of Steph and her family’s twisted past, raising the question whether you can always trust your own flesh and blood.

KIN is a rare instance where a play centres around older female characters, offering a refreshing chance to see experienced actresses stepping into roles as complex characters in their own right, rather than the typical supporting roles of a wife or mother to the often younger male lead.

Mackie steps down from in front of the camera and into the writer’s chair with this new dark comedy, declaring in a recent interview with HOME that “as an actor, parts change as you get older… you’re offered parts where the lifeblood has been sapped from them.” Mackie wants her female characters to be “absolutely centrestage, the focus of the action, not on the periphery, not passing through with a bit of stereotypical support.”

KIN follows these desires; Kay and Steph are centrestage, the only performers on it, in fact, and they charge the story forward with their speeches and conversations… about the past men in their lives. A problem arises when their conversations nearly entirely centre around the actions of Bob, Kay’s late husband and Steph’s late brother. Arguably, much of the play still revolves around Bob and his son Bertie, although neither of them actually appear on stage in person.

Perhaps, the photo frame of Bertie on Kay’s desk symbolises his remaining presence over the women and the performance itself—Kay and Steph physically fight over the frame toward the end of the show, as if they’re wrestling with the lingering memory of him and the metaphor that he and his father represent. This sequence, however, felt rigid and unconvincing, needing some music or lighting, or greater physical comedy, to help ease the awkwardness of the exchange.

Mackie’s comments about the industry not offering diverse enough parts for older actresses is all too true, however, she may have unintentionally reinforced this issue by anchoring KIN so heavily to the memories and legacies of its unseen male characters.

As Steph takes us through the twists and turns of her story, it frequently comes into question whether anything she’d been saying was ever true. Mackie builds a complex character, frequently caught in lies and rarely showing their feelings or reactions to the terrible events that she details in her speech.

There are moments of note in Willison-Parry’s performance as Steph, where we catch sight of a flash of grief across her face, a relief, as she puts up such a facade for the entirety of the show, giggling away and making immature comments in a single tone.

A greater emotional depth was needed from Willison-Parry; she stays at the same level of wide-eyed innocence throughout, until the grand reveal at the show’s crescendo, where [SPOILER] Steph’s true motive and sinister character is revealed.

A tender moment unfolds as Kay stands alone and silent on stage, replaying her late husband’s voicemail on their landline. Kerr shines in these delicate aspects of her performance, bringing a nuanced depth that captures the intensity of grief and shock. This was a beautiful choice by Mackie, illustrating Kay’s attachment and love for her partner despite the flaws and lies she had uncovered.

However, with such a stripped-back performance in terms of technical elements and cast, Jenkins relies heavily on Willinson-Parry and Kerr to bring the promised dark comedy to life.

Unfortunately, many of the jokes didn’t quite land as intended. Mackie’s quirky writing style and sharp one-liners were enjoyable; the punchiness of the jabs and insults she crafts were lively and playful.

It felt as though the performers hadn’t fully settled into the humour of Mackie’s writing, in order to find their natural comedic timing, resulting in bursts of energy on punchlines that missed the mark.

Willinson-Parry and Kerr’s chemistry, too, felt somewhat mismatched; their rhythm and emotional connection didn’t resonate as genuinely as one might hope for sister-in-laws navigating the aftermath of a funeral. Dark comedy or not, a higher variance of tone and depth of emotion was needed to fully allow the humour of the script to shine.

With intriguing twists and turns, KIN takes us on a thrilling journey to uncover the truth behind the McGregor family’s past. Although a few performance tweaks could have better realised the comedic potential of Christine Mackie’s script, the show kept the audience captivated with its distinctive and unexpected moments.

KIN runs at HOME (Theatre 2) until November 2.

Photo: Shay Rowan