New theatre at its best

Last week, I saw "Love" at the Birmingham Rep, after its transfer from the National Theatre. Love, by Alexander Zeldin, is a new piece that brutally but forensically exposes the challenges facing families placed in a short-term local authority hostel. Two of the players are a lone Syrian refugee/asylum seeker and (I think) a Turkish women in the same plight. The main drama plays out between a young family of four, and a family consisting of an elderly and incontinent old lady and her carer son, who has mental health problems.

The family of four are a man in his thirties, his heavily pregnant new partner, and his two children aged about eight and 12 from a previous relationship, who have recently been evicted for non-payment of rent and are struggling with finding work, with continuing to study, and with school. This family is running out of resources and is sanctioned during the play, and relies on the local food bank.

The other family - the old lady and her son - have been in the hostel for more than a year.

The piece shows in stark relief the challenges of living communally with shared cooking, living space and bathrooms, while coming to terms with what seems to be an irrational - and is certainly a misunderstood - benefits and sanctions system, the time taken to move from the hostel to the various offices by public transport or by foot, and the time wasted in waiting for bureaucracy. Both families continue to have unrealistic hopes and expectations, and their interactions with (unseen) authority figures are frustrating and unproductive, whether they are fuelled by anger or are an attempt to be reasonable.

The slow erosion of hope, the claustrophobia of the hostel, and the feelings of isolation and helplessness are portrayed brilliantly. If anything, the tensions and pressures are underplayed - there is very little behaviour that is out of control, though the parents are doing their best to provide a ‘normal' environment in a place which is very far from their desired norms. The different social norms - language and hygiene, for example - of the various players who have been thrown together by the system are brought out and contribute to the tensions.

The title is, I think, a reflection of the fact that both the families have love that is under constant threat from the environment in which the protagonists find themselves.

The children react predictably to the challenging circumstances and environment in which they find themselves - the lack of privacy, the lack of food, the breaking up of ordinary routines - with a combination of acceptance, rebellion, and attempting to see the bright side. The parents try - but inevitably fail - to maintain a ‘normal' environment in the face of all the pressures.

I have not seen anything as powerful as Love for a long time, and I was made, again and again, to think about how I might have behaved in similar circumstances, and how I would have reacted to the environment. I fear I would have done no better - and probably far worse - than the protagonists in the play, and I came away feeling deeply moved by the plight of families in short-term accommodation.

I know that there are no easy answers for local authorities and their staff, though I'm deeply concerned by the national government approach to benefits, as I know are many people. I shall, though, continue to support the Black Country Food Bank directly and indirectly - families and children who are hungry are an indictment of us all in a civilised society - though again I reflect uncomfortably on the unfounded assertion by ministers that using a food bank is a ‘lifestyle choice'.

Love is playing at the Birmingham Rep until 11 February - if you can get to it, do so - it's not a bundle of laughs but it tells a story we all need to hear.