Stalled. King’s Head Theatre.

Best known for fringe, comedy, and LGBTQ+-themed writing, Islington’s King’s Head Theatre is leaning heavily into original musicals this year. Conceivably, the bill for the venue’s recently upgraded seating and reworked thrust stage may have played a part in this season’s artistic selection, as no less than three brand-new, potentially seat-filling musical theatre productions premiere before August.

The first of the trio, Stalled, suffers unfairly from the expectation that a songfest set entirely within the confines of a swanky women’s restroom at an upmarket Seattle shopping mall probably ought to have some comedic intent. The title alone suggests a battle of wills with a recalcitrant turd during a bout of IBS – more Stooled than Stalled. Lorna McCoid’s queered-up 2023 Shakespeare Rosalie and Juliet saw the balcony scene played out for laughs over the cubicle partition wall of, yes, a ladies’ toilet. The metaphor-laden milieu somehow struggles to communicate much beyond humour. The comings and goings of a small group of angst-ridden West Coast mothers and daughters with overactive bladders do not exactly scream Eugene O’Neil.

Perhaps surprisingly, Liesl Wilke’s book, an adaptation of her 2011 short story that detoured into an unproduced TV script and stage play before the addition of songs from Andy Marsh, is rather more serious-minded than we have any right to hope for. Anticipate a kindly, occasionally over-serious meditation on bereavement, courage, and the rewards and perils of motherhood. A couple of great songs and a barn-storming central performance from Lauren Ward (so sublime in Dear Evan Hansen) as grief-stricken, toilet-cleaner-cum-Agony-Aunt-cum-materfamilias Maggie save the piece from collapsing under the weight of some jaw-dropping narrative improbabilities.

“Why are you doing this job?” 16-year-old Robin (a siren-voiced Rebecca-Jo Roberts), who should be at school but hangs around the mall toilet instead, asks her mum, Maggie. The question is never convincingly addressed, though we get a partial explanation of why she works and lives in a restroom late on. In any event, we should be thankful Maggie is there because, boy, can she sing, particularly in the anthemic piano-heavy Fly, a beautifully constructed paean to the difficulties of letting go of grief. As if crooning is not enough, Maggie, though submerged deep in her own despair, is on hand to offer listening, lavender hand lotion, and motherly advice to whoever drops in.

Pill-popping alcoholic Cynthia (Josie Benson offers comic relief and takes joint singing honours with Ward in the piece’s second showstopper, You’re Different) pops by regularly en route to her therapist. Partly, it is to bemoan the difficulties of bringing up her neurodivergent daughter, Emma (Grace Venus). Mainly, though, it is so Cynthia can surreptitiously neck liquor from a hip-flask.

Add computer coder Krystal (Regina Co) into the mix. She worries about coming out to her conservative Korean mother, Angela (Cezarah Bonner). Kyrstal’s strategy involves drawing an analogy between real and fake Gucci bags, a novel approach to opening up about one’s sexuality. Thankfully, the loo provides a helpful locale to rendezvous with her chirpy girlfriend, Sophie (Isabella Gervais has immense charisma).

Last but not least comes 16-year-old angry poet Serena (Evita Khrime), who opines wistfully that “therapy and Tik-Toc are basically the same thing” and “Netflix is for old people who watch The Crown”. Pregnant by the mall manager and abandoned by her much-loved mother, Serena needs Maggie’s help with morning sickness and facing up to some impossible choices. Does redemption beckon for these characters, or will they remain immersed in a stagnant bowl of unflushed water?

The production certainly oozes West-End values. The ladies’ toilet at the Shepherd’s Bush Westfield could learn a trick from Emily Bestow’s gorgeous pot-plant and cushion-bestrewed set, not least how to make your bog look like a Jo Malone store. Andy Marsh’s music shifts between light rock, ballad, and anthem, offering enough distractions to paper over some of the most glaring cracks in the narrative.

Director Vikki Stone marshals the cast of ten efficiently enough on the limited stage space, and there is no doubt the piece has momentum. But really, this is Ward’s show. “There’s going to be rain before each rainbow,” Maggie sings. The rain in question is mainly the cleaner’s sobs, which start at the mid-way point and gush into a veritable tsunami by the closing number. The tears may, of course, result from the copious amounts of drain-cleaner Maggie has to manage.

Wilke’s theme here is, as one of the characters tells us, that “motherhood fills you up and hollows you out”.  The toilet provides a shared female space to grieve, build, and bond. Fair enough, but one wonders whether placing the entire shebang in a washroom, however posh the decor, adds to or detracts from the serious message.  That said, dare one say it, Stalled may end up a cult classic.

Book & Co-Lyricist: Liesl Wilke

Composer & Lyrics: Andy Marsh

Director:  Vikki Stone