Marta and Davinia shine in a play that is not afraid to roar, challenge, question or offend, which is exactly what theatre should do.
As I settle into my seat, I look around the room at the other audience members that are slowly filling the seats of The Little. I know I have come to see a play about abortion laws and women’s rights, so seeing a decent number of male audience members fills my heart with joy.
Blanket Ban begins with a punch of energy as Marta and Davinia burst onto the stage, dressed in white and red – the colours of the Maltese flag. They immediately draw the audience in by breaking the 4th wall, as they start describing everything they love about their home country, descriptions that radiate joy, humour and passion. Through dialogue, music and video projections, we are taken on the journey of their relationship and theirprocess of creating this play. Their energies compliment each other perfectly, creating a captivating dynamic as they both navigate a maze of different emotions with honesty, respect, and confidence. Their use of costume, props and set is incredibly clever and creative, a reminder that the only ingredient for making great theatre is imagination.
As they play goes on, their narration gets sporadically interrupted by clips of women talking about their abortions and by clips of Malta during WWII. At first, they seem quite random, but as we get closer to the end the puzzle pieces fall into place and the allegory between Malta’s WWII stories and women’s ability to persevere is not lost. Until that point, however, there are moments where it feels like the play is rapidly jumping from one thing to another and trying to say too many things at once, making it a bit chaotic. It needs a clearer turning point that shifts the focus from general information about Malta to its abortion laws and the stories around that, as well as clearer reason as to why the protagonists decide to focus on that topic, instead of any other fact about Malta that they are so passionate about.
The recordings and videos of women talking about their abortion experiences in Malta, and the way that Marta and Davinia embody all the different characters whose stories are being shared is very inventive and effective and not only keeps the audience engaged, but also makes it very easy to distinguish and keep track of all the different characters. Deciding to incorporate the “imperfect” moments of the interviews, e.g. when the sound is breaking up, gave us moments of comic relief, which are needed when dealing with a subject matter so significant. They also subtly reminded us that these stories have been sourced from real people.
Throughout the play, the two girls also share with us their personal struggles around the creation of Blanket Ban and the responsibility that they feel as custodians of these stories. This weight of responsibility, while completely justified and necessary to fuel the urgency of the piece, is what sometimes turns it into somewhat of a lecture, where the audience is bombarded with too much information in a form that makes it neither easily retainable nor as impactful as it could be. Davinia’s monologue towards the end stirs some strong emotions, especially if, like me, you can relate to the eternal conflict of loving and hating your home country that you’ve left behind.
Ultimately, this play is an urgent piece of truly well-written political theatre that deserves attention for more than one reason. It’s high time England started giving a voice to its non-British residents who constitute such a large percentage of this country and who have so many important and powerful stories to tell, even if they are seemingly irrelevant to British culture. Women’s rights around the world are being stripped away day by day. Blanket Banis not just about Malta’s abortion legislation, it’s a warning about women’s future everywhere. It’s a manifesto for global female solidarity against the imminent threat of our basic human rights. And two incredibly talented Maltese expat women are calling us to arms.