Wish List | A harrowing portrait of zero-hours contracts

If someone were to wander into the snug stage-room on the top floor of the Royal Court Theatre on Friday evening, if they were lucky enough to enter at the right moment, they might chance upon what appears to be an impromptu, karaoke rendition of Meat Loaf’s I Would Do Anything For Love. A bemusing sight, but just a fleeting fantasy in the harsh reality of a girl called Tamsin, who tried to support both herself and her younger brother through her taxing, zero-hours contract. Struggling to make ends meet, she has taken on a job at a packing warehouse, whose almost-Orwellian motto ‘Work. Enjoy. Improve.’ reeks of irony, leading to it being mockingly dubbed the ‘fulfilment centre’ by Luke – Tamsin’s co-worker.

This is the world of Katherine Soper’s Wish List: a play, beautifully directed by Matthew Xia, which draws you into a world where life is difficult, and bureaucratic red tape seems to cordon off the escapes in every direction.

Tamsin’s 16-year-old younger brother Dean depends on her due to his obsessive-compulsive behaviour, which has rendered him incapable of going to college or even leaving the house alone in the daytime. But this is not how the government seems to view it, and Dean’s benefits are cut after he is deemed fit to seek work.

Everything about this play is lonely: the cast consists of just four different characters, and the play is set in a quiet room with a capacity perhaps more commonly associated with classrooms than theatres. There is no question about how accurately this reflects Tamsin’s reality, which seems to be isolated in every way – she is cut off by her brother, by her dire situation, and by the governmental bureaucracy, which fails to see the name behind the numbers.

And yet, in a strange way, Wish List seems to shine. The distance we feel makes us appreciate the fleeting flashes of hope and happiness we witness throughout, making them all the more flavourful, such as the moment when Tamsin receives a tea-light from Luke, which stands out all the more. The play somehow manages to capture the grim irony of Tamsin’s situation in a very cute way, with a surprising number of laugh out loud moments, many stemming from the light-hearted and likeable character of Luke, performed perfectly by Shaquille Ali-Yebuah; it’s a kind of humour that is hilarious in the terrible yet beautiful way it captures Tamsin’s awful situation. In such an intimate setting – where the audience are as much a part of the stage as the actors – the challenge facing the cast is much greater than acting in front of a larger audience. As Tamsin, Erin Doherty puts forward a very strong and emotional performance, making Tamsin’s struggles evident through devastatingly nuanced words and expressions. Dean’s character is illustrated in a terrifyingly real way: his fragile mental state, despite at first seeming very in-your-face, swiftly and seamlessly becomes an intrinsic part of the character, and I credit this to Joseph Quinn’s unflinching portrayal. Aleksandar Mikic also shines in his role as the Lead – Tamsin’s ostensibly stiff supervisor whose true character gradually comes into the light, revealing him as a family man who has simply fallen prey to pressures from those above him.