Review of ‘The White Chip’: “Mildly inebriating narrative needs little emotional booze-ter”

The Southwark Playhouse hosts the London premiere of Sean Daniels’s semi-biographical play, depicting the trials and tribulations of a man falling into alcoholism and his journey towards recovery. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the shows to let us know if its spiritual narrative distillates a high degree of pathos.

Theatre is imperfect by nature. Maybe that’s why it resonates with real life like no other art form can. It’s often said in the music world that playing the right note is not as important as how you produce it, for an absence of spirit is the only unforgivable flaw in a live performance. That notion may translate, almost directly, to The White Chip‘s execution, which hosted its London opening last night at the Southwark Playhouse, following some sonorous anticipation from its New York run — and the fact that Broadway darling Annaleigh Ashford is backing the project as one of its co-producers couldn’t hurt either.

It’s not a premise we haven’t heard of or seen onstage before. But that doesn’t mean we should ban it from hitting the spotlight ever again. Its meaning is a fair reason for its recurrence. And author Sean Daniels proves that value all through his script, which, despite its overreliance on action at the detriment of its pathos, is still able to encapsulate sincerity and significance continuously.

Crafted as a semi-biographical piece, with its most extreme elements borrowed verbatim from reality, this one-hour-and-a-half jaunt takes us through the trials and tribulations of an ex-Mormon theatre-maker as he falls into the vortex of alcoholism, followed by the ongoing battle to get back on his feet and lock himself away from those experiences. Nothing screams originality in its approach. It’s plain and blunt. We go from point A to point B with hardly any stops along the way. But it’s precisely that incessant, steep rhythm that provides the work with such truthfulness.

As a result, the recount holds a firm enough grip on the viewer through the entire journey. Sometimes absorbing and usually entertaining, Daniels’s narrative execution flaunts skillfulness in terms of pacing and structure, while building an enticing emotional arc which, though not finished or fully refined, comes across as compelling enough anyway.

Directed by Matt Ryan, the production focuses all its strength on the text by counting on a simplified, black-box staging choice. Piles of chairs stand in the background, a probable allusion to the AA meetings and a metaphor of both the saviour and constant struggle an alcoholic is haunted by for the rest of their existence. White tape marks on the floor, balloons, and fluorescent lamps concoct the rest of the set. Nothing else but the customary lighting changes and blocking movement to finalise the atmosphere. But to some extent, that will do.

Yet, the visual take on the piece could have pushed boundaries to a greater length. More daring lighting choices and imaginative scenic solutions would have secured a more arresting proposal. As a starter, it is the right path to follow. However, it’s impossible not to spot how this germinal idea could develop into something far more striking and pulsating, accentuating the material’s psychological layering by endowing its reverberant storytelling with an equal dose of theatrical craftsmanship.

In any case, the cast’s technically impeccable acting makes up for these not-too-concerning blemishes. A troupe of three makes the whole roster of characters come to life. There are no costumes other than stark black clothes, which effectively endure the overall Brechtian style of the show. With all of them playing their parts with refreshing naturalness and adequate range, the highest praise goes to Ed Coleman in the lead role of Steven, giving an overall satisfying performance, which, though not establishing the strongest bond with the viewer due to a minor lack of depth, still exudes presence, deftness, and flair.

Whisking audiences away into its resilient, self-improving mentality, The White Chip might still need a few tips yeeted around. Yet, its uplifting message is far from leaving any guests dry, taking them, instead, into a state of moderate intoxication, provided by its plangent contents and thought-provoking quality. It may come across as old wine in new bottles. But ultimately, its individuality pours through. And for that, it’s worth a shot — and even two.

All pictures credit to Danny Kaan.

The White Chip plays at London’s Southwark Playhouse until 16 August. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara