An important and moving account of the ongoing repercussions for Weinstein’s lesser-known victims, and a powerful reminder of the lasting impact for anyone who feels their voice is “too small”.Rating
Good
Lisa Rose is on stage as the audience enters, a rolling film playing behind her. It’s a montage of old Hollywood glamour intercut with weeping actresses clutching Oscars and gratefully thanking Harvey Weinstein. The device is clever and deeply unsettling: the juxtaposition of those emotional acceptance speeches with slightly manic black-and-white images from cinema’s past, and the persistent parade of scantily clad actresses, is arresting and immediately commands attention. We now know that Weinstein was convicted of rape in Los Angeles in 2022 and sentenced to prison. And so we look again at the faces of Paltrow and Cruz and wonder: what lies behind those carefully composed faces?
Rose formally opens the performance by asking a simple question: why now? Weinstein’s conviction followed extensive testimony from brave women, so why revisit it? There are many important answers, but for the purposes of this narrative it comes down to one woman: Michelle.
In the 1990s, Rose worked in the London office of Miramax while simultaneously auditioning for acting roles. Weinstein would occasionally appear in the office, though not often. His behaviour was rarely spoken of explicitly, yet it was widely understood and tacitly accepted. He was immensely powerful; the industry notoriously difficult to penetrate. What would you endure for the possibility of a career in Hollywood?
Rose shifts between voices and physicalities as she traverses the stage, embodying multiple characters. At times these transitions feel slightly clumsy, yet they remain powerful, underlining the cruelty of an industry controlled by a small cadre of powerful men able to manipulate and silence. It is an industry fixated on youth, beauty and female bodies, sustained by the assumption that some men are simply too powerful to challenge.
And then, we are told, a young girl, fresh from A level exams, just 17, covers for Lisa whilst she has an audition. Weinstein is not meant to be in town, except he is. Not in the office, but in a hotel.
And we pause there as we consider our children, our relatives, and our younger selves.
The culmination of this piece reminds us of those quieter voices, who even in the aftermath of the revelations felt theirs didn’t count, that they’d moved on, that they’d recovered. Except they hadn’t. And there is a sense of misplaced guilt: perhaps something could have been done.
And as further waves of allegations against other powerful men continue to surface today, the message resonates clearly: no voice is too small to be heard.
This is an impactful and necessary work. Rose is at her strongest when she meets the audience’s gaze and tells her own story plainly, reminding us that its relevance extends far beyond the stage. Some theatrical devices land more successfully than others: a list of the women who were brave enough to testify is deeply moving, their first names used to make it painfully personal. A piece of trial evidence concealed beneath each chair is genuinely shocking, but some character shifts and an eccentric costume choice feel less assured. Nevertheless, the overall effect is compelling, sobering and forever relevant.
Written by Lisa Rose
Co-Directed by Liz Ranken & Paula B Stanic
Too Small to Tell plays at Riverside Studios until: Wednesday 4 March.
