Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons at Harold Pinter Theatre

In the persistent din of podcasts, news and constant conversation, what would you say if you only had a few words a day? 140, to be exact. 

Sam Steiner’s dystopian romcom is making its West End debut, with glossy costars Jenna Coleman and Aidan Turner as sensible lawyer Bernadette and her self-righteous boyfriend, Oliver. The premise is simple but shocking: society has voted for a law known as quietude, where speech is limited to 140 words a day.

The motivation for the rule and the consequence if it is broken is unclear, but, pedantics aside, the play serves as a meditation on language and communication. Through flashbacks we follow the couple from their first meeting in a pet cemetery to navigating the “ex chat” and falling in love. Interjected scenes of the present-day quietude are a stark contrast with their chatty honeymoon phase. 

Steiner explores the metamorphosing nature of speech. In the early stages of romance, Bernadette ponders “couples’ dialect”: when two people spend enough time together, they develop a love lingo, creating unique patterns and phrases that are alien to the outsider. This becomes immediately relevant, as the couple find tricks to get around the law, including melding several words into one. “Love you” becomes “lovou” and “do you understand?” shrinks to “dunderstand?”. These feel claggy when repeated in the theatre, like an awkward rendition of Nadsnat, the made-up language from A Clockwork Orange. 

In a world saturated with digital communication, Lemons is also a love letter to the power of casual conversation. Bernadette realises dejectedly that she won’t be able to tell her boyfriend if something funny happens at the supermarket, as it would be a waste of words. The comforting banality of small talk is replaced with children who are “very concise from a young age” and adults stuttering numbers robotically, ejecting how far along they are into their word quota. Coleman is earnest and charming, but her chemistry with Turner lacks the fizz required of a two-hander. 

The set is as sparse as the conversation. There are no props, but the back of the stage is lined with household items piled high in rectangles of organised chaos, creating a sense of domestic claustrophobia. Along with the authoritarian law, this staging evokes lockdown, despite the play being written in 2015. There is a sense that the objects are suspended in time as well as space, trapped to reflect the characters’ limbo as they wait for a possible repeal of the law. Will they topple at any moment, crashing into a noisy disregard for quietude? 

Steiner insists that the work is fundamentally a romcom, but it shines most when he tinkers with language to generate humour. The audience ring with laughter when Oliver lets loose to rant in an argument, only to run out of words mid-insult, leaving Bernadette grinning gleefully. This level of engagement is rarer than it might have been, and the repetitive scenes and hindered conversations drag for the audience along with the characters. The programme notes give a nod to Samuel Beckett, but Steiner is hesitant to plunge fully into the absurd, leaving Lemons tasting a little sour. 

Ellen Wilkinson
Photos: Johan Persson

Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons is at Harold Pinter Theatre from 18^th January until 18^th March 2023. For further information or to book visit the theatre’s website here.