The Silver Cord
Finborough Theatre, London

ARTISTIC director Neil McPherson proves his weight in gold, again, as he pursues his mission to bring forgotten gems back to the London stage.  

The Silver Cord by US writer Sidney Howard is one such find. Last seen in the West End in 1927-28, it’s been gathering dust for a century as new fads and fashions grip the theatre world. 

But it’s a worthy revival. For, though set in a traditional New England home in a long-gone era, it skewers our hearts now with its unswervingly profound central theme: that of the umbilical bond between mother and son. 

Motherhood — so often extolled for its Madonna-like purity and innate selflessness — here is seen as a demonic obsession, unnervingly destructive and insistently triumphant. And we, the audience, writhe in recognition either of our own mothers or mothers-in law, or of ourselves as mothers or sons. There is a piercing truth in the central character that contrasts disturbingly with another character’s casual observation that, when it comes to children you should: ‘have ’em, love ’em, then leave ’em be.’ 

The whole drama is a demonstration of what goes wrong if you ignore this simple axiom.  

And it’s a simple plot too — so straightforward you’d think playwriting was easy. David Phelps returns to his mother’s house after a protracted absence, bringing with him his new wife Christina. His brother, Robert, is also there with his new fiancee Hester. What seems like an easy and happy little celebration, soon takes an alarming turn as mother, Mrs Phelps, sows seeds of destruction with a minute-by-minute devilry that is totally engrossing. 

The Finborough is a long-established fringe theatre, approached up rickety stairs and with a current sense of abandonment, as the pub which hosts it has been closed since lockdown. The great news is that the pub will shortly see life again. But more importantly, what you get in this modest little space is a splendid production with performances worthy of the National Theatre. As you walk in and take your seat on the ruby velvet benches and feel part of the impeccably domestic but period setting, you are transported immediately into a whole other world and life story. 

This is the point of theatre: to commandeer our imagination and enable us to inhabit lives other than our own. In this the Finborough and this production excel.  

Joe Harmston directs and Alex Marker is the designer. George Watkins and Dario Coates play the tortured brothers, Alix Dunmore brings us the strong and intelligent Christina, and Jemma Carlton lights up the stage as the young and joyous — but ultimately victimised — Hester. It is Sophie Ward, though, as Mrs  Phelps, who commands centre stage, punctuating her refined elegance with raw possessiveness so powerful it makes us gasp.  

The play is honest and ardent. As it progresses it is sometimes heavy on debate and some key dramatic moments are merely reported, not seen. 

But a terrific choice Neil McPherson. And a beautifully realised production that speaks volumes to us today.  

Runs until September 28. Box Office: 020 7244 7439, finboroughtheatre.co.uk