Some plays are the theatrical equivalent of a warm bath, a simple pleasure where the audience can relax and let a clearly delineated storyline play out, where everyone can guess what is going to happen, and can concentrate on the quality of performance.
The Murmuration of Starlings, playing at Seven Dials Playhouse, is not like that. Here, the audience has to work hard, peeling back the layers of a densely textured, at times surreal, play, rich in metaphor and analogy, and separate out fantasy from reality, imagination from actuality, to get at the central message of the piece; that love is a powerful enough emotion to conquer everything, even when reality unravels and dark forces threatens to swamp the future, and irrevocably subvert the past.
The Man packs items into a rucksack and leaves the house, not for the first time that day, and heads for a bus stop one hundred yards away.
The Boy appears, transfixed by the startling spectacle of a vast murmuration of starlings, wheeling, swirling and swooping to protect themselves from a predator. Unable to recall how he got there, he is confronted by The Man. There is an overarching sense of confusion and agitation as the two discuss the inherent danger of being constantly pursued by an unseen, ‘alien’ predator. But who, or what, is the predator?
Added to the mix are the characters of The Woman and The Girl. How are they linked to each other, and to The Man and The Boy? What is the significance of a pair of red shoes and a book left on a bus?
Why does time and memory seem to be hopelessly entangled, and shear off into different directions instead of in a linear progression?
Are we, as an audience, watching reality, memory, or some subversion of both? In short, how sure are we that what we are watching is real, or ever actually happened?
There is an awful lot to decipher in a production where ambiguity is second nature, and the narrative always seems to waver on the edge of total disconnection and dislocation.
Especially in the first act, there are far more questions thrown up than answers, and the audience are left to fill in the gaps and apply their own interpretation of what they have seen.
The second act attempts to weave a more coherent narrative into the structure of the plot, and we end with a simple, moving and ultimately satisfying conclusion, a scenario that at the interval was difficult to envisage.
It becomes clear that the predator is actually an accelerating form of dementia which is slowly ravaging The Man, his grasp of actuality and certainty, and affecting his relationship with The Woman.
The Boy and The Girl represent the past, fragments of memory and sensibility which provide clues to how The Man and The Woman have reached where they are today, underlining the depth and strength of their love as they face the stresses and strains of coping with the crushing pressures of The Man’s illness.
This is a complex, demanding play, and one that calls for the highest level of ensemble playing to pull it off.
Steve Hay (The Man), Jenny Johns (The Woman), Jonny Dagnall (The Boy) and Jennifer Barton (The Girl) deserve huge plaudits for their nuanced characterisations. There is a clear chemistry between them all, which delivers power and authenticity to the dialogue and contributes hugely to the compelling and energetic thrust of the narrative. Tender, quiet moments are juxtaposed with declamations of inchoate anger and escalating anxiety, all of which point the action effectively.
The set is simple, yet practical, with wooden crates and boxes used appropriately as chairs, fortresses and exit/entry points to illuminate the action and demonstrate the characters’ emotional state.
A set of background projections helps subliminally to anchor the narrative at different stages, especially with the movement of the starlings, the bus stop, the woods, bolts of lightning to emphasise the disintegrating electrical synapses of The Man’s brain and, especially, the dominating, glowering and baleful glare of the predator, a sort of avian Big Brother that personifies the nature of The Man’s illness.
This is an ambitious play, and one which seeks to pack a lot in. Sometimes, there is simply too much crammed in, with the result that the narrative becomes a little incoherent, rambling and disjointed, particularly during the first act. However, there are clues carefully planted throughout about the truth of what we are seeing, and these prefigure the pleasing circularity of plot looping, which is more than satisfactorily resolved at the end.
At its heart, The Murmuration of Starlings is a story of mutual devotion, respect and endurance, an examination of how one can survive, or at least come to an accommodation with, a cruel and debilitating condition through the sheer power of pure, enduring love.
Just as the starlings act, by massing and moving together as an automatic response to the need to avoid predators, so, too, love can insulate and protect against emotional loss and mental dislocation.
At the conclusion of this challenging, but ultimately rewarding play, The Girl, watching the starlings, says to The Boy, “It’s a love story.”
It is, and purely and simply, that is all that really matters.
Review by Johnny Oxford
When a predator threatens to destroy all you have ever loved, how far will you go to protect it? The Man must battle demons, aliens and his own memories to change everything.
The Man packs items into a rucksack and leaves the house, not for the first time, for a bus stop 100 yards away. The Boy finds himself wondering at a starling murmuration unable to recall how he got there. He is confronted by The Man, who seems determined to lead him away. There is an overarching sense of confusion and danger as the two are continually pursued by an unseen ‘alien’ predator. How do you battle something you don’t understand and don’t see coming?
At its heart this is a love story… and what happens when something or someone threatens to take it away. As the play progresses you begin to understand what or who the predator is and how lives, memories and futures are threatened and twisted. In the end we are left living the dream, just not one of our making.
Steve Hay – The Man
Jenny Johns – The Woman
Jonny Dagnell – The Boy
Jennifer Barton – The Girl
Written and directed by Joe Graham
THE MURMURATION OF STARLINGS
Seven Dials Playhouse
3 to 14 March 2026
