Three women, one legacy, and a ghostly reunion that’s far sharper than it sounds.
I step into theSpace @ Triplex on the final day of the run, catching Mary’s Daughters just in time. What I see is well worth the last minute decision – a tight, intelligent piece of theatre with super acting that leaves me thinking that it should have run longer.
We arrive to a thrust stage strewn with papers and feathers, as if the past itself has been ransacked. Out of this visual chaos, three figures emerge hurrying around in all directions, confused ghosts. Mary Wollstonecraft, played with commanding empathy by Megan Carter, her lesser-known daughter Fanny Imlay, portrayed with delicate intensity by Kaya Bucholc, and the more famous Mary Shelley, given a finely balanced mix of literary gravitas and personal vulnerability by Rachael Reshma.
The premise is bold, bring these three together beyond the grave and let them hash out their tangled history. The script, written by Bucholc and Will Wallace, is quick, clever, and full of detail that feels lived-in rather than researched. It’s feminist, ghostly, and emotionally rich without ever slipping into sentimentality.
Under the direction of Kay Brattan, the piece moves apace, on the whole with clarity and precision. The minimal set design works perfectly, those scattered papers and feathers become physical echoes of the words written, the thoughts left unsaid, and the memories that won’t settle. The lighting shifts are subtle yet telling, shaping the rhythm without drawing focus away from the performances.
The interplay between the three actors is the beating heart of the piece, and the chemistry is instant. There’s edge when they clash, humour in their sharper exchanges, and tenderness that sneaks up on you when you least expect it. These aren’t statues from history books, they’re living, breathing, complicated women, and I believe every moment of them.
That said, sometimes the pacing is just too fast, not something I often complain about. But, yes, there’s a need for pools of stillness here and there, just to allow the audience to catch up, no more so than when they speak about the ages at which they die – moments like this are deeply relevant to the script but get a little lost in the rush. The speed of delivery from all three feels too quick, as though the constraints of a Fringe time slot have pushed the performance into fast forward like a 150% YouTube recap. It’s a small pity, because with more breathing room, these moments could land with even greater weight.
By the end, the conclusion is darkly ironic yet satisfying, tying the threads together without false closure, because false closure was never part of these women’s lives. I walk out feeling entertained, moved, and just a little more educated.
Reviewer: Greg Holstead
Reviewed: 9th August 2025
North West End UK Rating:
Running time – 1hr