An eloquent and beautiful biopic that makes the personal and political one and the same, reminding us of the love behind the fight
“The world is changed by the women you push too far” sits atop the pin badge given to me after the curtain call, echoing the opening words of the play. Chopped Liver and Unions makes this quote its thesis as the biopic explores the life of Sara Wesker, a union leader mostly active in the 1920s and 1930s east London. We follow her from her first strike, to becoming an elected member of the Communist Party of Great Britain’s Central Committee.
The play is delivered as a soliloquy by Lottie Walker who embodies a tired fighters spirit, passionately recounting every struggle both personal and political with all the love, and weight of her past on her shoulders. She opens by creating powerful imagery of the saddlebags women like her have to carry: having children, gender expectations and exploitation both at home and in work. She concludes when the breaking point is reached something must be done about this.
Her brave and hopeful attitude continues throughout as she encounters opposing forces from work, family, Oswald Mosley and the British state. As these conflicts arise she offers her insight into these forces, where they arise from but also where working women find strength from. She eloquently and frankly, explores and explains her politics and philosophy in a way that is relatable and persuasive.
As she goes from participant, to organiser, from happily single to married, we see her choose to focus on her political work. This doesn’t however sit opposed to her personal life as the two are one and the same, we see her win over allies, family and make the argument to both her bosses (and the audience) over why such struggles are both correct, and necessary even when they seem unwinnable.
Her beliefs are rooted in Marxist economics, and place her personal experience and the experience of the people around as her reasoning for thinking the way she does, not academic work. The politics of the play are explicit, but not blunt. Romantic, but not utopian. Sara makes the dream of a world free from exploitation seem both achievable and something we can all help to create in part. J.J. Leppink’s script humanises this global struggle, cantering the ideals that Sara reaches for while not reducing the play to idealism.
Routinely Sera will sing a portion of a trade union song between scenes or time jumps, and each time I could see both others and myself softly singing silently along. This little flourish helps centre the solidarity and love that powers every revolutionary idea that Sara fights with – she remains angry at all the forces and structures that she fights against but these are not the primary emotions that drive her, or us, for change.
It doesn’t trade this hope for oversimplification either, the latter part the play recounts her ideals as she faces challenges from the Soviet Union’s political decisions – trying to rectify her beliefs with the critical view of what she hoped would be a shining beacon for communism. The play deftly doesn’t conjure a synthesis in this conflict but instead leaves the question of what this means open.
Breaking the fourth well at the curtain call, Sara shares her thoughts on how maybe it’s not all changed as much as she hoped for. In a UK where women are still under payed for the same work, prayed upon by abusers whom are often protected by both corporate and state power, it’s clear she’s right. Sara’s work is ours to inherit, and her struggle is ours to continue. Whether sexism, worker exploitation, or imperialism she makes clear that each struggle is interconnected, and one person’s battle is everyone’s war.
The play is as beautiful as it is inspiring. As fun as seeing Sara recount her battles, it is not simply a nostalgia trip. Instead it is a deeply moving examination of how one becomes so politically motivated, and how the circumstances that created Sara Wesker, are still here today.
https://tickets.edfringe.com/whats-on/chopped-liver-and-unions