Brezhnev's Children by Olwen Wymark

Brezhnev's Children, Matthew Blacklock's first production for KDC, is an impressive achievement from a talented young director. On entering the Diorama Studio, one is struck by David Illari's sparse set - seven impressionistic, featureless hospital beds, a screen, studio walls covered in watery whitewash on which are hung a couple of functional chairs. The simple setting is used with great imaginative skill by the cast and director, as the grim props of this hospital ward are used to create many locations, characters and stories.

Olwen Wymark's play, based on Julia Vozneskaya's The Women's Decameron, is set in a Moscow maternity hospital in 1985. Seven mothers are held in an isolation ward against their will, separated from their babies and the outside world due to a spurious "infection". The repressive regime that holds them there is represented by a high-handed Doctor (Roddy McKerrell), a Nurse Ratchett-like Sister (Alexandria Vaughan) and a put-upon Maid (Sarah Chapman). In order to cope with their incarceration (and possibly to keep themselves sane) the quarantined women tell stories of their pasts - and eventually form a bond which enables them to defy their oppressors.

It soon transpires that the seven women all have very different backgrounds and lives. Valentina (Helen Laurence) is a law-abiding Party worker whom the others regard with deep suspicion. Laurence's subtle performance grows in strength and humour until her final, beautifully comic realisation that she's been acting like a headmistress. Opposing her, Katrina Leek is strident and spiky as Galina, an agitator whose friends have been imprisoned on political grounds. Theatre director Larissa (Viki Neil) despises men and has chosen to have a child alone; meanwhile, Irina (Claire Lemon) claims to be happily married, but eventually reveals the pain of her husband's drunkenness and infidelity. Both are utterly convincing. Tess Walsh plays Holocaust survivor Nelya with gentle dignity, and Louise Pink shines in the difficult role of scornful call-girl Albina, one minute brazen and hard-boiled, the next vulnerable and raw.

In the programme, Gabriela Blandy jokes that "It's not often a nice Public School girl gets to play a dirty homeless woman". Indeed, her cherubic appearance and well-scrubbed demeanour are distinctly at odds with the rough history of her character Zina, who has spent most of her life in and out of prison camps. But as Blandy's performance gets into its stride, it becomes apparent why she was cast in this role. Her Zina is impressively volatile, turning on an emotional dime and as capable of wild transports of delight as she is of tirades of anger. Blandy succeeds in playing against type, and makes the part her own with a fiery performance.

Indeed, all the actors rise superbly to the challenges of this difficult play. Roddy McKerrell, the only male in the cast, more than holds his own with a strongly impassioned performance in multiple roles. He is particularly sympathetic as Zina's lover - but it's still disturbingly satisfying to see his strong Doctor beaten at the last by girl power.

Sarah Chapman and Alexandria Vaughan both demonstrate impressive versatility in the roles of the Maid, the Sister, and many other characters. Vaughan is very funny as a sleazy American and a precious luvvie, whilst Chapman makes a mean prison guard.

The subject matter, and the women's situation, might seem depressing, but as the women learn more about each other, the stage is set for an uplifting climax in which the characters challenge their prejudices, surprising each other and themselves. When Valentina used her party contacts to find Zena's lover, it brought a tear to my eye. All in all, a surprisingly feelgood show which creates a happy ending from the most unlikely materials.