The lead-up to a performance that deals with sexual violence can be an ambivalent one: dreading what nowadays feels like the inevitable dramatic recreation, focusing on a shocking moment as opposed to its more moving after-effects. Little Daughters was a truly refreshing and bold step in the opposite direction that managed to paint an intense and deeply affecting picture of sexual violence without ever using the word rape.
The subject matter in Little Daughters is broached implicitly, but not winked at too heavily. Annie Ferguson’s script is poetic, warm and, at times, sincerely funny. The all-male supporting cast surround protagonist Annie Lumsden — at times towering over her — and personify the varying degrees of understanding that spouses, friends and strangers offer in such times. Highlights of the cast include a comically un-empathetic doctor, whose ridiculous demeanour serves as a reference to the fragility of the individual after such a traumatic event. The protagonist’s story is always at the forefront and she is made endearing and genuine by Lumsden’s stellar, stirring performance.
Little Daughters tells of the complexity of recovery — of being small and afraid in one moment and defiant in the next. It manages to be deeply affecting with very little, culminating in a magnificent soliloquy by Lumsden that will wrench the tears from you before you even notice.
