The Other Line, a new all-female drama from Hellie Cranney and Ellen Robertson, is set in a modern, frightening Britain in which the Government controls the female body via a restrictive reproductive policy.

This system is revealed seamlessly in the course of the play. In fact, the terms of jargon embodying it – “planted”, “unplanted” and “MAT (Maternal Aptitude Test) – are worryingly easy for the audience to pick up. The reproductive system seems to be an entirely natural part of the characters’ world, disturbingly believable.

Female relationships are explored from sisters and in-laws to friends and lovers, and the dynamics in terms of dialogue, expressions and gestures are evocative and convincing. In the final emotional scene between sisters Kate (Hellie Cranney) and Natasha (Laura Jane Ayres), Ayres’s tearful, slowly crumbling breakdown bears testament to the finesse of the actors.

During moments of tension and high emotions, Madeleine (Mary Galloway), Kate’s sister-in-law, often steps in — or rather, puts her foot in it. Her confused and embarrassed response to Natasha and Claire’s relationship leads to hilariously maladroit digging out of holes, rendered all the more comic by the sardonic quips from Natasha and Claire (Sarah Livingstone). Her awkwardly polite manner and quips often defuse, or at least reveal the comical in, arguments and confrontation. She is not just a clown or a source of mockery; although she begins the play as a delightfully unaware and naïve posh girl, far from becoming grating, she ultimately transforms into an endearing and somewhat lonely character.

Madeline’s quips at the beginning of the play kick off the humour in the play, which remains a strong element despite thinly-veiled tension. The girly sleepover following Natasha and Claire’s arrival has biting moments indicating underlying drama and unsolved issues, but the lighter parts are hilarious. The sharp and witty dialogue between the women is fluid and intelligent – particularly Ayres’s interaction with Cranney, in which she makes fun of Kate’s somewhat intimate playlist.

An evening of wine-drinking leads to hungover revelations and confrontations with past relationship troubles. Dialogue between Claire and former lover Nikki (Ellen Robertson) exposes the pressures and preoccupations related to potential parenthood due to the reproductive policy, but it is also an entirely believable and endearing point of view, showing divergences in couples and the pain endured to stay together. The little details in their interaction, such as Claire not wanting to be called Rhys — her surname — shows the power of intimate and seemingly anodyne minutiae of the texture of a relationship, and its power to bring back memories. 

Tension related to painful memories, politics and class all weave together in The Other Line, creating a humorous and emotive tableau of diverse female relationships.