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Showtimes: March 27 to April 19, Fridays and Saturdays at 7:30 p.m.; Sundays at 2 p.m.
The Phoenix Theatre, 9673 Firdale Ave., Edmonds (at Firdale Village)
Ages: 12+
Sandi Toksvig’s Silver Lining, directed by Renee Gilbert, arrives at The Phoenix Theatre with wit, bawdy humor and British accents. Set in a seaside retirement home in England, the play follows a group of women whose routines are upended when a national emergency storm, named Vera, severs them from the outside world. What begins as a comic portrait gradually reveals a more delicate fretwork of resilience, forgotten strengths and lives that long to be remembered.
My Neighborhood News Group attended opening weekend, where a garrulous crowd filled the house with buzzing enthusiasm.
Onstage is a single room designed with furniture from a bygone era. Props include a sewing machine, a rotary phone and five tables of varying sizes, scattered throughout. As the play unfolds, the five tables, like the women themselves, transform.
Gloria (Susan Connors) appears first, cell phone in hand, trying and failing to leave a video message over the bathroom’s racket. That perfect, composed message never comes, and her annoyance is comedic. She shakes a small handheld box throughout the play – maybe a box of matches – and that detail is only revealed at the end. Connors skillfully balances Gloria’s outward confidence with a more vulnerable side.
Next, Maureen (Melanie Calderwood) enters from the bathroom, headphones on, flashlight in hand, accidentally turning off the lights. Giggles ripple through the audience; Calderwood is pure delight. Her jokes land as though by accident, always perfectly timed.
May (Dawn Cornell) rolls in on her wheelchair, pronouncing, “The smell of atrophy in the morning!” The embittered May snaps, yet throughout the play, Cornell allows glimpses of May’s softer, caring side to illuminate the stage. Her sister June (Erin Carter) is a bit off-putting with her racially and sexually prejudiced remarks. Carter brings her to life so fully, and with so many character nuances, that she feels like a real person.
Hope (CeCe Brantley), a younger caregiver, enters from the rain, plastic bag over her clothes, cell phone in hand, busy with selfies for her blog. Brantley makes her debut at The Phoenix Theatre with a pitch perfect British accent and a playful, caring charm. Toward the end of the play, Hope reveals a deepening connection with the women and this transformation is quietly evident.
Finally, St. Michael (Melanie Workhoven) arrives, wheeled in by Hope, in an all-pink bathrobe, white hair long and unkempt. Silent and mysterious, we assume she has dementia. She clutches a small box, and the women find a name tag on her robe, giving her an identity.
Jed (James Lynch) briefly appears as a robber. Lynch’s acting is strong, though the role itself adds little besides heightening tension.
When the women realize no one is coming to save them from the rising waters, they debate waiting. Their autonomy now feels fragile and precious. Each time the cast glances toward us as if checking for rising water just below the stage, the audience too, is transformed into Vera the Storm.
An especially moving moment is when May (Cornell) directly addresses the audience, sharing her regrets and reflections. St. Michael (Workhoven) rises from her wheelchair with sudden urgency, commanding our attention, recalling a life spent in service to others all the while abnegating her own. And now, conceding to memory loss – a muted quiet. This moment is heartbreaking and quietly storms into our hearts.
Lighting and sound for the storm are effective, though flickering lights are occasionally startling. Costumes (Elizabeth Shipman) distinguish each character with precise details, at times amplifying the humor like with June’s eccentric jumpsuit, Gloria’s bright red vest and modern prints and St. Michael’s all-pink bathrobe. Each costume is true to character.
The funniest prop moment came when Maureen (Calderwood) improvises, turning plastic toilet pans into fascinator hats with ribbons for everyone – mandatory for any British evacuation.
Cheeky deadpan humor lands flawlessly with Gilbert’s direction; the play succeeds in balancing laughter with sadness. The ending is bittersweet.
A note on content: I attended with my late tween son and found a few moments somewhat surprising, including sex toy references and strong language throughout the play. While part of the play’s charm is its British cheekiness, the material seems better suited for older audiences.
Silver Lining asks less about surviving a major storm than about visibility. Who is left unseen? How do we honor those lives? This production answers with humor and humanity, leaving a lasting impression.
Silver Lining runs through April 19.
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