All That I Ever Wanted play review

In thousands of rooms across the globe, women sing along to the same love songs. Music has the potential to unite us, using harmonies that can transcend language and speak for universal emotions. The prospect of a play that seeks to investigate the relationships that we have with each other due to music is extremely compelling and motivates Delna Mody's solo musical, ALL THAT I EVER WANTED. The production uses the famous French singer Edith Piaf's music as a vehicle for exploring female identity across the world.

Unfortunately, though, the show doesn't quite live up to the potential of its ideas. Instead, it presents three fragmented stories about unconnected women who, for some unexplained reason, feel the need to occasionally burst into weighty, emotional-driven vibrato.

ALL THAT I EVER WANTED comprises three monologues spoken by women in Paris, New York and Mumbai, respectively. Throughout, the musical element of the work sits uncomfortably against the more dramatic aspects. In contrast to the intense and specific delivery of the French cabaret songs, the spoken words are emotionally nuanced. And so here we see two opposing ideas at work: women are rich and diverse when it comes to the emotional stories they can tell; and, all women ever feel can be summed up in a few warbling bars of 'Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien' (No, I regret nothing).

Yet viewing the three unconnected stories doesn't ruin the production altogether; Mody presents diverse characters from France, New York and Mumbai, efficiently shifting accent, pace and even language accordingly so that ALL THAT I EVER WANTED stands its ground as a neat trio of monologues. In this way, the tenuous link between the three is forgiven.

Set in Paris, the first piece is certainly the most experimental in its format. Standing on a simple bridge, a woman talks passionately in French. She enthusiastically gesticulates and moves energetically across the stage before sitting calmly as a brisk voice-over translates in clinical BBC English. By performing in this bilingual manner, Mody has divorced action and words, stunting the development of a complete character so that, despite being set in the famed city of love, the power behind this narrative is rational, not emotional. In this way, the plot unfolds to reveal a wicked twist where a bisexual love triangle uses mutual unfaithfulness to bring a surprising sense of balance.

A sense of naivety is sewn into the words which depict a woman taught to 'dance' by men and, fittingly, Mody introduces a male dancer to articulate this charged metaphor at a sensually tense part of her narrative. While the French is largely incomprehensible and the English sanitised and practical, the refreshing addition of dance certainly makes for a new, powerful language and thus soothes the problems created in the fragmented characterisation.

But perhaps the most effective consequence of this dismembered character is that it takes our attention away from the cliches - this is, after all, a woman in mainland Europe living a life governed by academic thinking, dance and, of course, spontaneous romance. In the second piece, set in New York, there is no such distraction. Here we have a college drop-out actress turned waitress, rebelling against the superficial friendliness built into American culture. With apologies to any thespians who have tried to make a living in the Big Apple, this story has been told so many times that
it's hard to care.

Thankfully, this segment has its humorous moments enriched by creative lighting decisions. A particular highlight occurs in the audition scenes, when the character stands off-centre in a spotlight. As our aspiring actress attempts scenes from Shakespeare's ROMEO AND JULIET and plays out impressions of a Jewish mother, the spotlight acts as a no-nonsense judge, becoming increasingly swift at placing her in the darkness and visually articulating her failure.

In Mumbai, we meet the most emotionally enriched character as Mody thoroughly interrogates a paralysed woman's experience of loss, looking first to the visitor who is due to stop calling, then inviting us to peer deeper into her understanding of absence by exposing the character's lost mobility, beauty and sexuality. Our Indian character is by far the strongest, to the extent that she further fractures the sense of unity between the three women.

European, American and India aren't the only roles Mody plays here. The solo performer has also taken on a couple of additional roles off-stage; as the production's playwright and director she has shown great versatility both off and on the boards. That said, it is easy to wonder how the production could have been enriched by more interaction on-stage or maybe by the employment of a different reader for each of the monologues to sharpen up the emotional reach and underline the play's key message: that different women can be united by music alone.

ALL THAT I EVER WANTED takes an ambitious idea and raises some interesting questions but, sadly, fails to explore the themes of universality and unity more fully. Maybe someone in France might have an answer.

*Amelia Forsbrook is a critic and arts writer based in Wales, UK. Currently she is following the National Dance Company Wales on their Indian tour. In the past, Amelia has written for the Guardian, Buzz Magazine and for a range of other publications.