As If We Ever Were

A Mermaids Production

The Barron, 07/02/25

The Byre Theatre, St Andrews

Written and directed by Lila Ahnger

Produced by Eilidh Read

Review by Chloe Annan

Lila Ahnger’s new play, As If We Ever Were is a well-rounded debut: episodes of ecstasy, denial, melancholy and madness are all suspended within the timeless scema of the London interior as Evelyn’s partygoers try and uncover the central question – “Why are we here?”. As a stylistic inheritor of Tennessee Williams’ school of expressionism, the play unfolds in snatches as we gain increasing insight into the mercurial life of the protagonist, Evelyn.

From the outset, the only clarity Ahnger affords the audience is this. There is a party (denoted by the balloons scattered downstage) and the partygoers have been invited by Evelyn (Cece Allentuck), who is assumably the protagonist. Much like the partygoers, we are unsure why we are there (or, in terms of being an audience that is now absorbed into the party’s action, what we are watching). Unsurprisingly, the audience is kept ignorant as the plays’ nonlinear structure, and the eschatological insight we gain from the ever-enigmatic Evelyn, deny this central revelation.

Disruptively creative in her own right, Ahnger also shatters the fourth wall as she elicits audience participation from the outset, and has the characters criticise the script throughout. Through these series of directive and creative decisions, Ahnger loquaciously thematises the construction of experience, using the self-creation of the play as a motif to problematise our view of the various ‘truths’ Evelyn presents us with.

Thus, fractured narratives destabilise previously assumed ‘truths’ of the stage world. In particular, the animate teddy bear, Pickles (Emma Legowski), punctuates the domestic scene of Evelyn’s party, disrupting the setting’s previous realism. As the action unfolds, the audience relies on patterns in the light, colour, speech, and sound to piece together the plot. Together, these features amplify the sense of claustrophobia within the party; combined with various clashing personalities and temporalities, Ahnger’s play is sensorially kaleidoscopic and completely absorbing.

This leads me to the next part of my review…

What actually happens in the play?

Evelyn dashes through the audience, hopping onto the empty stage accompanied by the swish of her yellow dress. Facing the audience, with rose-tinted glasses firmly planted on the bridge of her nose, she enquires, ‘Do I look pretty?’ Her first soliloquy betrays a self-conscious individual, nervous about her life starting, cowering below the bubbly exterior of a woman who looks like the living embodiment of Fluttershy from My Little Pony. She exists, carrying an absurdly large suitcase, labelled ‘emotional baggage’.

One by one, the partygoers filter into the London flat. Her sister, ‘sock-booby’ Margo (Caroline Kerr) is a unique blend of defensive and vulnerable, constantly directing cutting remarks at the rest of the cast as she lounges against the door frame. Peter (George Jeffreys), the cheating ex-finance of Evelyn, is insufferable. Described by Margo as a ‘midlife crisis on legs’, Peter is consumed by regret and directs this towards Evelyn through the use of a sickly-sweet pet name, ‘Pookie Bear’, and his insistence that she yearns for him like a ‘sunflower looking for the Sun’ which is contrary to her dedication to her fiancé, Davide (Elliott Read).

Leather-clad Ginger (Elodie Bain) is the stereotypically cool family member, and Pamela (Libby Mullen) appears to the viewer like a time capsule from the ’80s. Evelyn arrives (with her emotional luggage, of course) singing The Night We Met.

Compared to the lived-in and unpalatable ensemble of stock characters, Evelyn appears bubbly and high-spirited. However, conflict is clearly present as she snaps at Peter for mocking Davide, firmly rejecting his advances. Interrupting the kerfuffle, there is a resounding knock on the door which echoes throughout the theatre. Knowing that Evelyn played The Ghost of Christmas Past in a school play, we wonder what relic will greet us—and nothing comes. Evelyn alerts us that Davide will only ring the bell. A second knock is heard. Then a third. The lights flash red and Evelyn dashes off the stage crying. Moments later, she returns having replaced her rosy lenses, the lights fade back to normal, and the doorbell finally rings—enter the eponymous Davide.

A great error is apparent in the couples’ reunion. The audience learns that he does not know her name, let alone that they are engaged. Davide is his name, and he was a teenage fling from a past holiday in Tenerife. This is where the ever-critical Peter rips into Evelyn and she retorts with a spiel about true love and fate. It is fate that her Davide has come back to her on the day they are meant to be engaged. Clearly, her wishes are fulfilled by the plot—a flashback to Tenerife reveals their true relationship. Responding to Evelyn’s puppy love, Davide incredulously remarks, ‘You wanna marry me?’ There is a knock at the door again and we return abruptly to the present.

‘This is too far, even for you.’

A spotlight breaks upon Evelyn’s face. Denial of reality has encouraged this fantasy building, and with her family’s verbal onslaughts, her well-spun fairytale begins to unravel. This story is not a romantic comedy as Evelyn would like us to think. It is a portrait of regret and misery with plot holes and poor lines. Evelyn can be convinced of anything ‘if it fits your plot’ as Peter quips. More knocking on the door (time catching up, perhaps?), flashing lights, and delirium and her false reality is restored. Evelyn admits in a moment of clarity that ‘my heart gets ahead of me’,

‘…yours is the only script I want to perform.’

Evelyn takes Davide aside. She admits that he has a grip on her like a sausage stand does to a dog. Roles swiftly reverse when, upon throwing him an imaginary stick as a joke, she compares him to a dog on the loose, and assigns herself to the role of the aggrieved owner who chases after him. These images are confusing, to say the least (and provide too much exposition about their inner lives for my taste), but they pose the audience with a tantalising question—will she ever catch up to Davide or will he constantly evade her reach?

For now, Davide gently lets her down. She says that she knows already. With these half conversations, nothing is cleared up before the knocking comes again. Despite this apparent breakup, Davide admits that he feels a genuine connection between them and proposes. It seems like Evelyn’s fantasy is actually coming true. But alas—time comes knocking and the flashing becomes urgent, the stage is cast into darkness and a slideshow projects on the back wall: Evelyn’s life flashes before her eyes.

No longer wearing rose-tinted glasses, a visibly aged Evelyn returns to the stage, having been addressed by her carer. Nostalgia can only do so much—her husband enters behind her and it is none other than the incorrigible Peter. Facing the audience, Evelyn’s silent screams come in the form of the resigned smudging of red lipstick across her face. Her youth and jubilance are extinguished.

To conclude, As If We Ever Were is a deeply introspective exploration of love, delusion, and regret. Ahnger's cinematic direction and fractured narrative style invite the audience into the disorienting inner world of Evelyn, where emotional truths collide with her fantastical fabrications. The complex interplay of realist and absurdist theatrics, coupled with the eccentric cast, keep us guessing as we track Evelyn's desperate search for meaning and connection throughout the play. Despite its inscrutable moments, the play’s emotional weight is undeniable as the echoing nostalgia and lingering melancholy are palpable. By the play’s end, we come to question the diverse outcomes that evolve from our own experiential crossroads. Thus, Ahnger’s debut proves to be both a challenging and captivating experience, one that will resonate long after the curtain falls.