Backstroke: It's a tough watch – but Celia Imrie and Tamsin Greig are superb

Telegraph

21-02-2025

The chance to see Celia Imrie and Tamsin Greig on stage together – and up close at the 250-seat Donmar too – has meant that tickets are scarce for Backstroke, despite Anna Mackmin's play being flagged as a tough watch. Although the title's swimming reference is duly honoured and explained, 'stroke' is the operative word; the evening explores the distressing aftermath of one.
Set those two names side by side and you'll likely think of comedy in the first instance. Aside from being in the latest Bridget Jones film, and The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel hits, Imrie is still cherished as the affected Miss Babs in Victoria Wood's Acorn Antiques skits, while Greig is a darling of British sitcom who became adored as just-coping Jackie in Friday Night Dinner.
Despite Imrie playing a critically ill mother called Beth, and Greig her beleaguered daughter Bo, there are aspects of the evening that play to these strengths. Mackmin's script jumps about in time, achieving an Ab Fab dynamic in its evocation of Beth as an outspoken, boho child of the Sixties – whose metier is woven sculptures – and her sensible, self-contained offspring.
But there's no sugar-coating it, the core of the piece confronts what many of us will likely go through, and many of us have to witness: a medical crisis that renders a once autonomous adult incapacitated, and approaching the point of no return. A wail of ambulance sirens ushers in the sight of Imrie bed-bound in hospital, staring into space. If you're easily triggered perhaps steer clear, but catharsis may await too. Mackmin valuably catches the agonising shared powerlessness, and nigh impossible decisions on treatment.
The obvious topical, and ethical, considerations around end-of-life care are only gently touched on, though, apparent most in Bo's recoiling at the issue of long-term support (this struggling TV writer has a disturbed adopted daughter to contend with). Mackmin's main focus is on huge emotional upset, the way we are borne back into the past during these crunch-moments – revisiting causes of resentment, and happier times too.
The dramatic structure neatly mimics synaptic connections as it builds up the backstory, requiring the leads to convey their characters at different ages. But Mackmin, who also directs, errs towards overload. Bursts of flickery video convey a home-movie of the mind, but are distracting too. Stirring? It is, but running at two hours plus an interval, momentum flags.
Even so, the production confirms Greig as one of our finest actresses – her deadpan features a surface beneath which churns so much; she can convey incredulity with a raised eyebrow, exhaustion with a sustained blink. A choked-up funeral oration achieves a wrenching sense of belated filial appreciation.
And Imrie musters the complexity of this raffish, motley matriarch, who, when active, smokes at breakfast, dishes out tactless insults, divulges her sexual history with disinhibition and becomes ditzily inclined to malapropisms. A show, then, not unlike a domineering but dear relative: there's much to pick away at but much to hold on to and admire too.