The Smile of Her review – actor’s autobiographical show speeds through its resonant pains

Christine Lahti tells the story of family life, misunderstandings between mothers and daughters, and her career – but its focus is blurred

Christine Lahti’s autobiographical show addresses many important issues and emotional pressure points. It is the story of family life, misunderstandings between mothers and daughters, Lahti’s career trajectory, a second wave feminist awakening and a post #MeToo reflection on a time in showbusiness when the casting couch was the norm and female actors were judged for their “fuckability”.

All in the space of 90 minutes. That is the problem here. Lahti stands on Sarah Beaton’s near empty stage design with occasional neon lights (why?) and a white sofa covered in “upscale plastic” to evoke the sterility of the unhomely 1950s Michigan home in which she grew up, and her parents’ demand for perfectionism.

Under the direction of Mêlisa Annis, a young actor accompanies Lahti on stage (Isabella Ford on press night) representing her child self. This brings some drama and dialogue, though not quite enough. It is a walk through her life, from childhood to college to the moment she realises she wants to become an actor. She is told she is too tall and not pretty enough to succeed; she is expected to go to hotel rooms and have meetings with the expectation of sex afterwards. This is combined with actorly reminiscences of her achievements: a back-screen shows images of Lahti from years gone by, and a video clip accompanies an anecdote describing how she was in the toilet when she was announced as the winner of a Golden Globe. The tone and material are a strange mix, the march of autobiographical chronology pulling against depth and dramatic intensity.

Lahti describes her family as a midwestern version of the Von Trapps on steroids. It’s a great line, referring to her parents’ insistence on a plastic-covered happiness through all the turbulence, of which there was plenty. There are five siblings, a mother who smiled and smiled in the face of suppressed pain and a father who was violent towards his children, using a belt. She describes mental illness, rape and untimely death but these are brief descriptions and summarised outcomes. You want her to explore every awful incident in more depth but the narrative continues onwards to the next bit of life chronology.

So it seems like a play about everything, its focus too broad and later too blurred to carry vivid drama. It is a shame. So much here is shocking, tragic and incendiary but it is not given enough oxygen to unleash its terrible power.

• At Marylebone theatre, London, until 29 August