The White Chip at Southwark Playhouse Borough – review

Writer Sean Daniels is looking to change the narrative around alcoholism, from God to science, shame to chemistry. And he succeeds, but ironically, it all feels a bit preachy.

Steven is a rising star in the theatre world, gaining accolades and job offers by the bottle-full. From the age of four when he first tried beer, he’s had a taste for the stronger stuff, but then who doesn’t? And everyone loves that Steven works hard and plays hard, so how can it be a problem?

In a play about the struggle for sobriety, it’s no wonder they don’t want to give us an interval. Steven’s rationale that “if I’m an alcoholic then everyone around me is one too” just hits different if everyone in the audience is jonesing for their half-time G&T. What this means, though, is that we’re now sitting through an hour and 40 minutes of a largely one-man narration, and that’s just too much for most actors to carry.

That said, Ed Coleman as Steven gives an incredibly energetic performance, leaping from one big life event to another. Charismatic and conversational, he’s an ideal leading man, and his eventual downfall, while predictable, feels true to life – no surprise, as many of the plot points are taken directly from Daniels’ own experiences.

And Coleman isn’t entirely alone on stage: Mara Allen and Ashlee Irish spend the 100 minutes zipping around, playing tens of supporting roles, and bringing as much heart and nuance as is possible in the few lines designated to each bit-part. They just want fleshing out a little so it doesn’t feel quite so one-note.

Lee Newby’s design is artfully sparing: metallic confetti does a lot of heavy lifting, but aside from that, it’s fold-out chairs and a table on wheels. What with an entire lifetime packed into one story, there’s really too much movement among the cast of three for there to be much else on stage.

The script is well paced and genuinely funny at times. And the argument that we should be talking about alcoholism through a scientific, rather than – or at least as well as – a religious lens, is important and well made.

But it feels more like an excellent public service performance than it does a piece of serious drama. This seems inevitable in the show’s didactic format of Coleman talking directly to the audience and narrating the whole story: nothing is left unsaid, the message is laid entirely bare; I feel like I’ve sat through a really cool school assembly.