Review of ‘The Smile of Her’: “Scant narrative is off the beam”

This is a true story. It is her story. Our theirs. Maybe everyone’s, too. To be fair, Christine Lahti seems to have trouble deciding who the real protagonist is in her autobiographical play. The term itself should clear the air. But it doesn’t. Perhaps ego may have got in the way of a potentially poignant plot, in which the actual heroine is somewhat reduced to an accessory. And where the pathos takes too long to solidify to have any proper impact.

There’s no question about the difficulties a little girl would have growing up in 1950s America. Even if born into affluence- being a surgeon’s daughter should have at least put some food on the table -society’s expectations would force people to act the part they were assigned. Parents were abusive, and a strapping of kids was considered a fair and effective method of punishment. It wouldn’t end there. Definitely, not in Lathi’s family. Wives could get the same reprimand if they refused to obey their husbands. And the road to female happiness was relegated to pregnancy and homemaking.

Lahti’s attempt to exorcise the demons of her past is conceptually functional. But in practice, it fails to deliver. As Lahti recalls, she struggled to land an agent upon moving to New York because she refused to smile and play one-dimensional roles — even if that was the only way to open the door to something more substantial. Surprisingly, that’s exactly what she’s doing with this piece. Not the smile part, which, fortunately, she has no issue with. But when it comes to elaborating characters, they all come out incredibly underwritten.

Her first and probably biggest mistake is a lack of focus. Although the evolution of women’s rights pulsates throughout the recount, the play’s themes are, however, sketchy and vacillating. At one point, it portrays the hardships of making it in a gender-biased industry. At some other moments, it’s an exploration of trauma throughout a toxic upbringing. Some other excerpts deal with sexual assault. And the list just goes on and on.

There’s an obvious connection among these topics, which makes them suitable to coexist within the same narrative. But they all need their space and their time to evolve. There’s as much as an 85-minute play can offer. And sadly, this one doesn’t do much in that department. Eventually, it feels oversaturated, as it tries to comprise more than it can handle. And so, the script unintentionally honours its underscore. As the ABBA song playing in one of the final scenes puts it, most dramatic opportunities are slipping through her fingers all the time.

All in all, there is no fulfilling arc for any of the characters. Not even Lahti herself. Some crucial aspects for her growth as the lead are blatantly ignored. She mentions how difficult it is to break away from the vicious cycles of her upbringing. But that’s about it. We don’t get to see much more of that layer, which is reasonably the richest and most resonant one. Consequently, the sense of intimacy and openness the show aims for never consolidates. And neither does our connection with her journey.

Bearing in mind that the play owes its name to Lahti’s mother’s magnetic grin, it’s baffling to see how little voice she is given. She has prominence, as she is an ongoing influence in her life. But we don’t get to see the complexities of someone who repressed her will and gave away her dreams because that’s how she was taught. Ultimately, she understands she could have chosen a different path. But the transition to that realisation is so brief and abrupt that it barely conveys any profundity.

On the other hand, Lahti demonstrates limited stage acting skills. While still inviting, her presence is far from captivating. The main problem, however, lies in her almost non-existent register when portraying several characters. For the most part- if not entirely -her rendition comes across as just playing herself in different moods, with no compelling transformation in between roles.

There’s the redeeming feature of its excellent design, whose use of a black box combined with projections and dramatic lighting is admittedly immaculate. And there are several powerful segments that still give value to the overall concoction. Yet, so much goes missing that, in the end, The Smile of Her can’t be regarded as anything else but a semi-accomplished try, which doesn’t earn more than a smirk as a sign of approval.

All pictures credit to Mark Senior.

The Smile of Her plays at London’s Marylebone Theatre until 29 August. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara