[title]
It’s fun to hate lawyers. Just the word ‘lawyer’ is enough to conjure the image of a fat, red-faced, brace-wearing, pinstripe-suited, money-coveting fiend – the kind of devil you’d find drinking in the (still) men-only Garrick Club. But the main character in Rebecca Lenkiewicz’s new play is a lawyer, and she’s more guardian angel than fallen one.
In her legal aid law centre in Uxbridge, solicitor Gail takes on clients who don’t have the money to pay for her expertise. But with recent cuts to the government’s legal aid budget, she’s finding it harder to keep her business running. Lenkiewicz doesn’t pitch her script from a statistics angle. Instead, she weaves together a warm, entertaining portrait of Gail, her assistant, and three people who come to them for help: Shaun, a man being hounded by the council for money; Aisha, a victim of domestic violence; and Ken, who may lose access to his kids. It’s often total chaos in Gail’s offices, but it’s hilarious, humane chaos.
But as Lenkiewicz goes out of her way to avoid being preachy, she doesn’t get down to specifics, and we’re never entirely sure who the baddies are supposed to be in ‘The Invisible’. The script is subtle, demonstrating how a bunch of normal people function – barely – under current conditions. But it also feels like a missed opportunity: we are made to understand how vital it is for vulnerable people – those most invisible in society – to have access to lawyers who can navigate the system. And how important it is to value those who do the work. But the threat to Gail and those around her remains vague.
Michael Oakly directs a nicely paced production, with some slightly awkward designs from Ruth Sutcliffe, and deals with misjudged fantastical dance interludes as best he can. But the performances he elicits are excellent – specifically from Alexandra Gilbreath who is pitch-perfect as Gail: sharp but tender, complex and funny, she is infinitely watchable. There’s strong support too, especially from Niall Buggy, playing two old fogies but brilliantly and poignantly real as both. As Shaun, his winding yarns and broad smiles hide a man teetering horribly on the edge.
Lenkiewicz writes with a fluid, understated poetry but the play falls short of getting to the dramatic crux of an exceptionally relevant issue. What ‘The Invisible’ does succeed in, however, is portraying just how necessary compassion is. And just how in danger society is of losing it.