“Here’s to messy families and second chances.” Jamless is the archetypal two-hander production, both a darkly funny and emotionally charged story about two estranged sisters, Ginny and Ro, reunited in the attic of their childhood home after years apart, and having experienced very different lives.
Set in a claustrophobic, grubby attic, surrounded by cardboard boxes which, as we shall discover, contains many relics of the lives of the two sisters growing up in a typical working class Northern town, (from cassette mixed tapes to long forgotten items of clothing, old paintings and letters), Ginny and Ro try to reconnect and re-establish a relationship which has atrophied since Ro left home to seek out a new life in London.
We discover that Ginny never left the town she grew up in, partly out of duty, partly out of fear, and partly because she felt someone had to stay and face up to family obligations and burdens; to care for their ailing mother, who was trapped in a loveless, toxic and, as it transpires, an abusive marriage which culminated in a tragedy later revealed as the narrative develops.
Ro escaped these familial constraints. She left home at sixteen, went to university, and built a busy and ostensibly successful new life for herself in London, complete with husband and two daughters.
So why has Ro suddenly returned? What is she looking for amongst the detritus in the attic? What traumas and buried resentment might her reappearance engender, and how will this affect her relationship with Ginny, whom she labels “the ultimate grudge holder”?
This play seeks to unpack a lot in seventy minutes, and its success lies fairly and squarely on the ability of the actors (both centre stage throughout) to make their characters authentic and plausible, their motives and attitudes believable, their bickering and squabbling convincing, and the fragile nature of their changing relationship credible and empathetic.
No easy task, but both rise to the occasion and deliver memorable and authoritative characterisations.
Nance Turner, as Ginny (and writer of the play), gives a well-observed and robust portrayal. Spiky, combative and sharp-tongued, Ginny combines bluntness with empathy. Her irritation at her sister’s sudden return after five years is tempered by the realisation that something is wrong, and her exasperation and frustration translates, as the narrative plays out, into a profound understanding and compassion, providing the platform for her love for her sister to emerge from the carapace of resentment and vexation that had built up as her physical and emotional estrangement from Ro had developed.
Emily O’Mahoney gives us a Ro who is caught between two worlds, struggling to allow full rein to her instincts to deal with the traumas of her present by reconnecting with her past. This dichotomy is expertly captured in a nuanced and measured performance.
The unfolding of her unhappiness and distress arising from the secret she is carrying, a secret that is potentially permanently alienating her from her family, is done sensitively and convincingly. Her intrinsic need to reconnect with Ginny, and the gradual recognition of the need to confide in her is well portrayed and pointed throughout the play.
Ro’s early assertion about her decision to leave home (“Better to run than to rot”) is changed by her return, and the innate pull of the familiar, a place where she can reset, relook and decide how to move forward. As the play develops, Ro realises that she can only make the decisions she needs to recalibrate her present and future life by returning to the lessons of her past. An emotional metamorphosis that is acutely portrayed.
Both actors also have some great caustic one-liners, delivered perfectly.
Yet, what is most impressive in these performances is the skilful and perfectly executed use of silence. This is powerfully used by both actors in their poignant monologues, where they reveal the secrets that they have both been carrying to each other.
There is much to admire in “Jamless,” but there is also frustration at the relatively obvious development of the narrative.
There is little in the plot construction that will surprise, as the basic premise has been covered many times. A returning sibling, the fractious, bickering nature of the sisters’ reacquaintance and the recalibrated emotional adjustments required to underpin their reconnection, are all very well-worn tropes.
This play requires a more surprising or shocking dénouement and firmer resolution to repay the excellent work that has gone into its creation. Whilst one can still enjoy a whodunnit where the murderer is pretty obvious early on, it will necessarily lack the piquancy to enable it to live long in the memory.
This is the challenge facing Jamless in its current incarnation.
The story contains all the elements that one expects in a piece of intimate theatre: grief, sibling rivalry, long-held grudges and resentment intermingled with the need to rebuild broken bonds. However, the imperative that drives such changes, the key reveals within the narrative, are too obvious and formulaic to convince fully.
That having been said, Jamless provides some very enjoyable and striking moments of theatre and is well worth seeing.
The overriding impression is that a replotted, stronger reveal would give this laudable production just that bit more substance at its core.
A case of “jam tomorrow” perhaps?
Review by Johnny Oxford
Ro shows up in the middle of the night like a bad memory — all Chelsea boots, borrowed poshness, and secrets she’s still not ready to tell. Ginny’s got a frying pan in one hand, a grudge in the other, and no patience left.
They haven’t seen each other in five years.
The attic’s full of dust, old boxes, and things better left alone. But when Ro starts digging — literally and emotionally — the past starts kicking up more than just cobwebs. There’s a shoebox Ginny swore she’d never open. A letter hid under a trunk. And a voice note from a man Ro’s running from.
Jamless is about two working-class sisters trying to make sense of a house they never felt safe in, a family that never made space for them, and the cost of surviving when no one teaches you how.
There’s no jam. But there’s toast. And tea. And truth.
JAMLESS
Lion & Unicorn Theatre
4 to 8 November 2025
