That Girl in the Yellow Dress

The opening moments of The Girl in the Yellow Dress reveal a stage that is simple and stark, save for a bowl of yellow flowers. By the time the lights dim at the end of the show the flowers have been replaced by the yellow dress the title of the piece promises, but everything else has changed.

In contrast to the starkness of the space, the audience has witnessed a piece of theatre with the delicacy and power of a single violin string holding a sustained, and yet deeply resonant note. A simple story, it has you holding your breath to avoid missing the next moment.

The story is set in an apartment in Paris, where French-Congolese student Pierre arrives to request private English lessons with Englishwoman Celia. Their relationship becomes increasingly entangled, with twists and turns of truth and untruth in which each reveals more than they had intended.

The increasing intimacy and complexity of the relationship acts as catalyst for ebbs and flows of desire, passion, conflict and loathing that are exquisitely written, performed and directed.

Following the dialogue becomes a little like listening to the interplay of notes in a piece of music. Each moment is crafted to hold the listener in a state of heightened awareness of the significance of the present, while simultaneously recognising the dense weaving of what has gone before and what is to come. Celia’s pedantic use of grammatical logic in teaching language provides a delightful and sometimes funny sense of this dense musicality and structure, something Pierre gradually appropriates and uses at Celia’s expense as their relationship unfolds.

Marianne Oldham (Celia) and Nat Ramabulana’s (Pierre) performances are a joy to watch. The layers and overtones of meaning in their verbal sparring are beautifully realised, without being overbearing. Both actors bring a sense of their dialogue being something of a duet, in which the balance and counterpoint of the writing is beautifully realised. It is a brave duet, during which muted and playful repartee translates into a brutal sparring about victimhood and suffering that goes to places most of us would rather avoid.

Pierre describes at one point in the play how an axe might only strike one tree but the echo of that act touches us all. This is a production that will satisfy and stay with audience members long after the lights have dimmed as the echoes of wisdom, humour and insight carry far into the night.