A short history of motherhood in theatre

Parents are reflected in their children, and society is reflected in the theatre, both can be for better or for worse. The mother is a constant character that has been in theatre since the Greeks. Euripides’ neurotic yet strong matriarch Medea, in clashes with her lover Jason, brings out potent pathos and tragedy as great as any noble, masculine hero. Seen for centuries as manipulative and crass by a patriarchal literary world, Medea is the most prescient Greek tragedy for our time. It is with the central character of the mother, who out of her frustration ends up murdering the children she once yearned for, that speaks at full-throat to a society where motherhood is perverted into a prison.

The Bard’s canon includes many strained but strong willed maternal characters

Progressing into Shakespeare’s theatre, mothers not only gain greater complexity in their personalities, but they anchor the play’s wisdom and philosophy. Look no further than Gertrude in Hamlet. Her sensitivity, perhaps in the wrong place and in the wrong time, touches an audience weary from the deceit and depression of her new husband and vengeful son. The Bard’s canon includes many strained but strong willed maternal characters. Volumnia, the mother of the central character in Shakespeare’s Roman tragedy Coriolanus, wields practically all the power in the play. She advises her son on everything and, as he grows frenzied against Rome, she acts as the key voice in stopping his spiteful attack on the city. Peace is brought because of her actions, mirroring the last-breath clarity provided by Gertrude for the destroyed royal family when she reveals that the chalice she has drank from is poisoned.

Launching into modern drama, mothers become the heart and the action on stage. Mary Tyrone, riddled with past longings and drug addiction, publicly holds up her old wedding gown in the last scene of Eugene O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey into Night. O’Neill crafts, out of the image of his own late mother, an intensely fractured and complex character in what is arguably the greatest family drama. It is exactly Mary’s sensitivity to life, her declaration to her husband James that “the past is the present. It’s the future too” that makes her the clearest and saddest of the doomed Tyrones. Her flinty recollections, accumulated during the play’s epic four acts, come crashing down in the awful final scene. Such bold characterisation and emotional honesty given to a maternal protagonist can be seen decades prior and decades after.

The titular Juno, in Sean O’Casey’s classic tragicomedy Juno and the Paycock, is forced to hold her dysfunctional family together, if just by the sharpness of wit and will. Three decades later, Bertolt Brecht and Margarete Steffin’s Mother Courage would end up on the stage of the Berliner Ensemble alone, dragging her cart of junk to be sold to any willing buyers. The elderly mother is so attached to profit, keeping her business of provisions for soldiers afloat, that she ends up losing her three children to the war that she lives from. This kind of depiction may sound damning, but Courage knows everything that is happening to her and is perilously conscious of what her actions will take. She cries her over her dead sons and yet continues to push the cart. It is her perseverance that has connected Courage to audiences for generations. We don’t wag our finger and sigh “if only she had done this or that”. Brecht and Steffin’s Mother Courage and Her Children centres the mother as the great tragic hero, arousing feelings of pity for the titular characters, trapped in an unjust war and a society that only seeks to profit off it.

Musical theatre, from the classic American shows of the ‘50s and ‘60s onwards, places the mother in tune and in time with the very nature of the form

Drama coalesced the mother into parables of humanness, characters who walk on air against their better judgement. Musical theatre, from the classic American shows of the ‘50s and ‘60s onwards, places the mother in tune and in time with the very nature of the form. Going back to the birth of the modern musical in shows like Oklahoma and Show Boat, maternal characters are a guarantee, providing soft ballads and encourage 11 o’clock numbers to the protagonist. However, only one musical out of the classics that defines what the mother in musical theatre can be. Originally intended to centre around the titular character of the daughter, the creators of Gyspy found a goldmine in the character of her mother, “the mother of all stage mothers” Madame Rose. Everything that was potent and real about figures such as Mother Courage and Juno is rhymed and harmonised with Rose. She is a crescendo. Her Act One closer, the aptly titled “Everything’s Coming Up Roses” encapsulates her maternity. After her star daughter flees with half the touring company, Rose immediately switches her energies to her shy, inexperienced other child. She denies rationality in favour for her desire for her children to reach the starry heights she was unable to reach. It is rousing, it is tragic, but it is above all the perfect depiction of the mother on stage. Pushing against the world for her children and, not so secretly, for herself –  who can blame her?

While other long running musicals may have quiet and reserved roles for older female actors, Donna is a role able to give mothers, both on stage and in the audience, a true all dancing and all singing leading lady to idolise and envy

Progressing into the ‘80s, ‘90s and up to present day, mothers are shown in a variety, reflecting the same variety of mothers in wider culture. A notable example is Jenna’s mother in Waitress. Despite being shown only in flashback, she remains a constant force. Jenna’s frustration with her marriage, her pregnancy, and her job, are reflected but cooled in the memory of her mother and the baking lessons she delivered. Modern musical theatre in Britain may be seen take a more reserved and realistic approach. Mrs. Johnstone in Willy Russell’s Blood Brothers takes us through the decades and the heartache of her sons’ lives. Yet the character is still funny and relatable. Her mistakes and sacrifices as honourable and inevitable as that of Mother Courage. However, it’s not all doom and gloom that musical theatre has to bring. Mamma Mia!, perhaps not as perceptive as previous examples, explores the fun and joys of late motherhood. Donna, whose daughter Sophie is in search for her father, is bold and quick witted, intermixing emotional vulnerability and heart warming sincerity. While other long running musicals may have quiet and reserved roles for older female actors, Donna is a role able to give mothers, both on stage and in the audience, a true all dancing and all singing leading lady to idolise and envy.

Bringing blind courage, razor-sharp wits, and piecemeal nurture or neglect to giant dramatic or musical crescendos, mothers in theatre represent an ensemble of the greatest roles and plays ever written. No character has been better in capturing the turmoil, beauty and clarity of life than that of the mother, whether she be queen, matriarch or “Mama”.