ROOMIES– Sophie was once a Los Angeles it-girl, but now, on the eve of her 30th birthday, she’s stuck in a treatment facility with her 18-year-old schizophrenic roommate, Molly. ROOMIES is a darkly funny solo show based on a true story about friendship, identity, and the fragile line between control and collapse.
Underbelly (Jersey) from Wednesday 5th – Monday 31st August (not 18th) at 13:00
How did turning a true story into ROOMIES help you explore the blurred boundaries
between identity, control and recovery?
Although ROOMIES is rooted in a true story, the process of adapting it for the stage required a
kind of essentializing – stripping it down to the central question I was most interested in –
friendship and connection. You can’t hold onto everything in a sixty-minute solo show, so the
work becomes about clarity of intention.
From there, the play expanded in more unexpected ways. I became interested in Sophie’s
identity, how constructed it is, and how her roommate disrupts it, ultimately forcing her into a
kind of surrender. Those moments of unravelling aren’t separate from the central theme; they’re
the mechanism through which the play explores connection at its deepest level.
What drew you to the contrast between Sophie’s former LA “it-girl” life and the stark reality of a treatment facility?
I love juxtaposition. I think it makes for interesting drama and interesting comedy. It’s like a
pressure cooker – you stick someone who lives and thrives in glamour, glitz, and opulence in an
environment like a treatment facility, and it’s sure to cause a scene. You stick the ages together –
someone on the verge of thirty, entering a more sophisticated mature era with an eighteen-year-
old that hasn’t graduated from high school yet. So while this is based on a true story, the situation has
unwavering drama and conflict. Fundamentally, the contrast makes for compelling storytelling.
How do you navigate humour within such a sensitive setting without diminishing the realities of mental health treatment?
It’s a delicate balance. You can’t make jokes just for the sake of jokes in a subject matter like this
– who are these people? Why are they saying what they’re saying? Sophie is, at first glance, a
deeply flawed and superficial L.A. socialite and Molly, her eighteen-year-old schizophrenic
roommate, is in many ways the actual voice of reason. They’re stuck in a room together for five
months. The comedy comes from character and circumstance. They’re trying to survive; they’re
bored out of their minds; they’re more similar than different. I wanted to make a show that
humanised these people, destigmatised them, and I think it’s really hard to do if you stay in
sombre Girl Interrupted territory for an hour. So I toggle between truth and levity. If the dialogue is
true to character and circumstance, then it’s justified.
In what ways does the relationship between Sophie and Molly reshape what the play
is saying about friendship and dependence?
Good question. Molly is someone Sophie would typically avoid – she’s not the kind of person
Sophie would choose to associate with. But on a deeper level, Molly represents everything Sophie
is running from, especially herself. They desperately need each other. Both have been outcasts from their respective worlds, both are struggling, and they’re forced into this shared space. Sophie
wants this big, fabulous birthday, but none of her glamorous friends show up – Molly does. And
ultimately, Molly is what makes her less alone on that day. I think a lot of people feel that kind of
loneliness, especially now. We’re more connected than ever, but also more isolated. The show
suggests that connection can come from unexpected places – if you’re willing to let it.
How does the confinement of a shared room intensify the exploration of selfhood and
fragmentation across the piece?
Molly is Sophie’s mirror. She’s spending all this time in her outside life getting validation from
people, places, and things, and then she’s forced into a bedroom with a person that is the antithesis
of what she’s seeking. She can’t run from it, but she sure tries. The confinement catapults the
breaking of her identity and forces her to confront who she really is. If she’s meant to have a
fabulous party, then why is she spending it with this weird girl? She can’t stand being around her,
but she’s also deeply alone. If she surrenders to the connection she needs, then who is she? It’s
easy to run from yourself if you aren’t forced to.
What do you hope audiences take away about connection and resilience within
systems that can feel both supportive and suffocating?
There’s a lot of nuance in these systems and environments, and I think in America we’re often sold
a kind of idealised version of them. The reality is much more complicated – they’re deeply flawed,
and yet they can still help people. That tension is hard because two people can walk away with
completely different experiences.
On a broader level, I hope audiences see themselves in these characters. Whether you’re a little
more polished like Sophie or a little scrappier like Molly, they’re really just two sides of the same
coin. At the end of the day, everyone is looking for connection, and sometimes it shows up in the
places you least expect.