A fascinating kitchen-sink drama interrogating race, class, and assimilation
In the aspirational neighbourhood of Stillwater, a mysterious shack has sprung up, clashing with the cul-de-sac’s uniform new-builds. Its owners are nowhere to be seen, and the neighbours want it removed.
This premise anchors A Good House, taking the audience into the living rooms of three Stillwater couples. The shack looms at Andew and Jess through the front window of the house they’ve just moved into; Lynette and Chris are trying to start a community action group to petition for eviction; and Shihle and Bonolo are the couple everyone else wants onside. Of course, there’s also the shack’s living room conjured from the residents’ imaginations: masses of people crammed around an open-coal fire belching smoke.
But this isn’t really about the shack, it’s about the fears it comes to represent: of being defined by a single characteristic; being confined in the social pecking order; not knowing what you can and can’t say any more; and the happened in “the next town over”. These deeper issues underpin the simmering drama which makes A Good House compelling, with every conversation about the shack morphing into a wider discussion of identity. Sihle (Sifiso Mazibuko) has struggled to overcome being seen as “another black guy”, whilst his wife Bonolo (Mimi M Khayisa) worries her privileged experiences make her “not black enough”. Meanwhile, Andrew (Kai Luke Brummer) and Jess (Robyn Rainsford) are concerned that everyone can see they don’t belong, and Lynette (Olivia Darnley) and Chris (Scott Sparrow) fear the judgement of not taking “the PC line”.
This claustrophobic atmosphere ratchets up the drama one conversation at a time, gradually building tension as the shack becomes a totem for each couple’s worries. A Good House is at its strongest when these tensions boil over, especially in a gripping clash between Sihle and Bonolo about whether the shack dwellers deserve eviction. And – really – whether they connect more with the “insiders” or “outsiders” in their community.
Skillful writing ensures the debate remains nuanced throughout, with each couple forced to explore their own prejudices. Amy Jephta’s rapid dialogue and believable characterisation means there’s no obvious “good side” to root for, and as the characters’ positions evolve over the course of the play, so do those of the audience.
A Good House’s comedy is equally slow-burn, relying more on character and situation than punchlines. A slow start ramps up in laughs as the audience gets to know each couple, encouraged by well-placed callbacks to earlier conversations. Sparrow’s physical comedy and Brummer’s rapidly cycling emotions also provide some laughs, but the reliance on uncomfortable silences and middle-class awkwardness feels overplayed by the end. Instead, it’s when A Good House eschews this comedy and commits to the drama it’s at its best, with Mazibuko and Khayisa’s evocative, powerful performances stealing the show.
The production itself is put together with confidence, as set design and lighting amplify a building sense of unease. The shack is an omnipresent menace at the back of the stage, but often obscured by the walls of each couple’s living room. A touch of folk-horror emerges as Andrew becomes convinced the shack morphs between scenes, but the script misses an opportunity to explore this intriguing idea. In group conversations, spotlights crash to Sihle and Bonolo, amplifyig the intimacy of their relationship even in disagreement.
A Good House treats its audience to both kitchen-sink drama – the concerns of middle-class suburbia – and a much wider exploration of class, race and what it means to “fit in”. Told with sensitivity and nuance, this is a story both thought-provoking and entertaining. Whilst its comedy occasionally gets in the way of the drama, what drama it is!
A Good House plays at The Royal Court until 8th February, with Thursday and Saturday matinees. Tickets can be purchased here.