Can’t See For Looking, which is on at the Old Fire Station this week, follows Rosa, a young Filipina domestic worker who signs on to her uncle’s agency, excited to become a nanny overseas. She hopes not only to see the world and begin her adult life but also to send money home to treat her mother’s tuberculosis and create security for her precariously employed family.
What begins as a rigid and demanding but doable job, working for the family of her uncle’s business partner in Abu Dhabi, sours once the family moves to London. Here, Rosa meets her kind-natured employer Fatima’s mother-in-law, Nura, a cruel and controlling woman who justifies her treatment of Rosa as a form of discipline. ‘For a happy household, everyone must know their place’ she tells the audience. Rania Kurdi’s performance is fantastic, we understand the twisted logic, infantilization and entitlement that makes her feel total ownership over Rosa without her character coming across as just broadly sadistic. Rosa is soon saddled with double the workload, given no free time, beaten, and forced to only eat leftover food. She never sees a paycheck, all money is sent back to her father in The Philippines.
We first meet Rosa in a government building in London, being interviewed by asylum worker John about her application, with the support of a fellow survivor called Angel. As John hears her account, so do we. This framing is ingenious for allowing the actors to conjure the story with just a smattering of props and no costume changes. Characters frequently monologue directly to the audience (though the fourth wall is never broken), to compelling effect.
What was particularly striking and illuminating to me was that Rosa’s story did not start off as harrowing or forced, which is what I’ve seen far more often in portrayals of trafficking and modern slavery. Instead, the coercion and abuse worsen slowly, so by the time it becomes unbearable, it’s also near impossible for Rosa to escape. Adding insult to injury, this weakens her case for claiming asylum, as she entered the country of her own free will and did not try to escape sooner.
The tone is well-considered: while it’s genuinely upsetting to watch what Rosa endures, it’s never lingered on exploitatively. Perhaps the most heartbreaking element was how routinely Rosa’s life was disregarded. At one point, Nura says ‘Is it right to hit a person? Of course not. But Rosa is not a person, she is a servant’. From her ‘feminist’ boss Fatima who allows the abuse to continue to her father who seemingly only cares about the money she’s bringing in, to another character who uses Rosa for her body, what she endures reveals how in order to justify exploiting someone, we must dehumanise them in our minds.
The show is full of sharply drawn characters. Fanos Xenofos gives a brilliantly subtle and sympathetic performance as John, the government employee who must decide if her account is legitimate or an elaborate ploy for an unearned new life. His character could’ve easily come off as wooden or one-note, but instead summons all the weary confliction of a man trapped in bureaucratic hell, trying to do what’s right.
Laura Fitzpatrick’s Henrietta is a character that overstays her welcome somewhat. A friend of Fatima’s, she’s an upper-class white woman who runs a posh society for expats. In turning a blind eye to Rosa’s plight, she serves as an indictment of supposedly humanitarian Britons who fall woefully short of actual allyship. Fitzpatrick’s acting is brilliantly believable, and the character adds an interesting texture to the piece. But as her frivolous and superficial concerns frequently act as comic relief, she could have probably had less time onstage for the same impact. In particular, there’s a late-in-the-play confrontation between her and Rosa that thuds along vindictively, as if written more for catharsis than the audience’s benefit.
Angel, while gamely played by Ericka Posadas, might be the weakest written character. She has little personality beyond pushing the main character forward and is more of a plot device than a fully rounded character, and, saddled with all the show’s most educational lines, her frequent dropping of statistics about modern slavery and the asylum system feels a bit unnatural.
As Rosa, Margarita San Luis gives a powerfully unembellished portrait. Her delivery is sincere and wide-eyed without ever slipping into overdramatics, and she’s a generous actor who plays off the other characters beautifully.
There are a few imperfections in the script. A pivotal exchange towards the end of the piece, which proves crucial to Rosa’s asylum application, is simply recounted rather than dramatised. To do so would’ve perhaps required a larger cast, although it could’ve been done via voiceover. As it is, it feels odd. A few scenes toward the end of the piece could be trimmed to avoid repetition.
But ultimately, what’s commendable about the show is its depth and complexity without sacrificing narrative. It’s a pacily directed, well-acted and hugely compelling look at a painful topic, culminating in a powerful ending. Highly recommended.