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The Factory Girls

Under the stewardship of Mehmet Ergen, the Arcola in East London has become a dynamic fringe venue for classic revivals, new work and productions by major touring companies. To celebrate its fifth anniversary, the theatre acknowledges its former life as a clothing factory with a revival of Frank McGuinness’s 1983 debut.

To the sound of machinery, you enter through racks of shirts to find five women at work in a Donegal garment factory in 1982. They’re quality checkers, snipping off excess cotton while sniping at each other to pass the time. Una (Kate Binchy) is old enough to recall her wartime dalliance with an American GI who dumped her. The quietly sharp Rebecca (Aislinn Mangan) and young newcomer Rosemary (Jane Murphy), who secretly prefers horses to men, strike up a friendship.

Mother-of-two Vera (Catherine Cusack) has a loutish husband. And Ellen (Maggie McCarthy), the matriarch of the factory floor, hides a deep well of disenchantment and loneliness behind tough talk.

As the factory struggles to compete with cheaper imports, the women are faced with increased quotas and the threat of redundancies. After the interval, we find them, arms full of bedding and bottles of whiskey, holding a defiant occupation of the manager’s office, while their boss (Ruairi Conaghan) and ineffectual shop steward (Paul Lloyd) hover outside.

The confinement of disparate personalities in such later McGuinness works as Observe the Sons of Ulster Marching to the Somme and Someone Who’ll Watch Over Me is apparent here. He already shows an understanding of the claustrophobia of conflict and the tensions and rivalries of leadership as Ellen’s resolve falters and the taciturn Rebecca emerges as the instinctive leader of the group.

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Yet the context of their protest is frustratingly woolly. If the factory is indeed struggling, can the women’s defiant act achieve anything? McGuinness is more concerned with the embattled camaraderie as the amusing banter and simmering divisions of the women in Act I give way to a cross between a pyjama party and an encounter group in Act II.

After exposing the women’s private grief, fuelled by Church, marriage, men and motherhood, the play ends with nothing resolved except a notion of personal dignity and taking chances. The strong ensemble under Raz Shaw’s direction make you eager to know what happens next. The play’s dramatic thread may unravel towards the end, but as a birthday celebration for the Arcola it makes a good fit.

Box office: 020-7503 1646