A claustrophobic examination of what it means to grow old in a failing prison system
Lifers opens on a prison-cell game of Texas-Hold-‘Em, as three old-timers raise, call and fold for a prize pot of toothpicks. Baxter is over-confident and keeps going all-in; Norton is becoming increasingly irate, in equal parts because he’s losing and because his latest conspiracy theory is being laughed at; and loveable grandfather-type Lenny is doing well enough, although he occasionally forgets how many cards need to be dealt. His Zimmer frame sits inauspiciously in the corner. It’s a damning indictment of a prison system where elderly lifers struggle to navigate slow-grinding bureaucracy, and retain some dignity in their final years.
Peter Wright’s Lenny is both charming and heartbreaking, particularly once it becomes apparent he hasn’t only been forgetting how to deal. Sam Cod’s Norton, by contrast, is repellently self-serving. They make for a compelling duo in Lifers’ early scenes, but as the narrative progresses it’s James Backway who steals the show. Pulling double-duty as Mark – the idealistic prison officer arguing everyone is entitled to be cared for – and as Lenny’s son Simian (plus a brief cameo as prosecution barrister), Backway sketches some very human, emotionally affecting characters.
A particularly compelling scene finds Mark in hospital, bonding with Lenny as they await the results of medical tests. Caught in the to-and-fro between not sharing personal information, and recognising the power of human connection, this struggle in Mark’s conscience provides the backbone to an otherwise unstructured narrative.
A general lack of stakes drains the story’s momentum: there’s no hope of seeing the prisoners overcome their past misdeeds, and whatever Lenny has wrong with him doesn’t feel like the sort of thing you bounce back from. Lifers is too shy about leaning into the bigger philosophical and moral questions that could give it depth – is everyone entitled to dignity? Are some crimes unforgiveable? Whose job is it to care for those who don’t have anyone to care for them? It’s a pity, because when these questions do come to the fore, the actors shine.
Towards the show’s conclusion, estranged son Simian visits following a medical diagnosis. Only at this point do the audience realise we have no idea what Lenny’s actually in for. The tension this lends to the confrontation is palpable. Too often, though, Lifers is content to remain confined within its claustrophobic character studies, or resorts to cliché such as the cynical prison doctor who’s seen-it-all-before: “we have a duty of care, Mark, but we don’t have a duty to care”. It’s a good line, but perhaps too one-dimensional for this character.
The gallows humour between prisoners resigned to their fate, and also the staff tasked with carrying it out, lands more often than not. Norton in particular has some snappy one-liners, and in his more lucid moments Lenny takes on a similar seen-it-all wit reminiscent of Fletcher from Porridge. There’s also a simmering, justifiable rage at the ineffectiveness of the prison system: it takes Baxter 11 months’ form-filling to get a new pillow, and the library hasn’t seen a new book since 1985.
At a time when Britain’s prison system is crumbling, Lifers’ message of dignity for all feels particularly relevant. Yet that urgency often fades amidst its characters’ daily lives, despite some great performances. Whilst Lifers shines an entertaining spotlight on a topic we rarely discuss, you leave feeling that a bolder script and staging could have realised its themes – and Lenny’s story – more fully.
Lifers plays at the Southwark Playhouse Borough until 25th October, with Tuesday and Saturday matinees. Tickets can be purchased here.