
For two nights only, Hyde Little Theatre transformed Studio 9 on Market Street into a place where laughter, secrets, and memories collided. Both performances of The Memory of Watersold out – a testament to the buzz surrounding this production – and the audience of all ages, left with smiles.
The play, directed with care and precision by Kassie Ellis and Stuart Crowther, follows three sisters brought together in their childhood home on the eve of their mother’s funeral. Mary (Fern Baddeley), the middle sister and a perfectionist doctor, arrives with an air of quiet control that masks deep uncertainty. Theresa (Natasha Holt), the serious and tightly wound eldest sister, radiates the frustration of a woman shouldering more than her share of family responsibility. Catherine (Pascalle Rossle), the youngest, bursts onto the stage as a whirlwind of eccentricity, a self-confessed hypochondriac with a shopping habit and an endless stream of hilariously candid remarks.
The dynamic between the sisters is electric, bouncing between razor-sharp humour and moments of genuine vulnerability. The ghostly presence of their late mother Vi (Amber Hornby) adds another layer to the narrative – her appearances blending warmth, wit, and an unspoken sadness. Meanwhile, Mary’s married lover Mike (Lee Keen) and Theresa’s well-meaning but occasionally bewildered husband Frank (Jamie Bennett) weave into the sisters’ interactions, revealing further cracks in their lives.
One of the evening’s biggest triumphs was its ability to find humour in the most human of flaws. The writing sparkled, but it was the cast’s delivery that brought the comedy to life. Catherine, in particular, was a crowd favourite. Pascalle Rossle imbued her with infectious energy, comedic timing, and relatability. As a younger audience member myself, I found her quirks and exaggerations oddly familiar – the overthinking of small aches and pains, the impulsive spending, and that now-famous line: “I have no friends. Well, I do have friends, but I hate them all”, which I think all 20 year old girls can relate to.
Yet The Memory of Water is not just a comedy. As the sisters sift through old grudges and conflicting recollections, the play explores the fragility of memory and the ways in which family histories are shaped as much by emotion as by fact. The plot twists – sometimes funny, sometimes heart-wrenching – kept the audience leaning forward in their seats.
The direction was tight but never rushed, allowing each emotional beat to land. The set design captured the sense of a lived-in home, familiar yet haunted by absence, while the lighting subtly shifted to mark the moments when reality blurred with memory. The music choices were particularly inspired. Ending on The Cranberries’ Linger was a masterstroke – its wistful tone perfectly encapsulated the lingering effect of the play’s themes. I know I left the theatre humming it, the story still very much alive in my mind.
Over the course of two evenings, Hyde Little Theatre reminded us that community theatre can be just as affecting, and often more intimate, than any large-scale production. The Memory of Water was engaging, thought-provoking, and above all, a joy to watch.