Luke Norris's Fearless Royal Court Drama Cuts Through Pregnancy Taboos
The gentle title Guess How Much I Love You? belies the raw, unflinching intensity of Luke Norris's new play at the Royal Court. This is not a sentimental journey but a fearlessly intense exploration of places most people dread to contemplate, let alone experience firsthand. Norris's drama begins with a couple attending their 20-week antenatal scan, a moment where hope visibly curdles as they confront a reality far removed from the sweet, straightforward path they had envisioned.
A Journey Through Emotional Hell and Back
The narrative follows this couple through what can only be described as an emotionally exhausting pilgrimage through suffering and tentative redemption. Rosie Sheehy delivers a brilliantly fiery performance as the expectant mother, a character who seems almost physically allergic to platitudes and hollow sentiment. She possesses an instinctive sensitivity, immediately sensing that the ultrasound technician has spotted something alarming—a worrying anomaly that prompts a hurried exit from the room.
Her partner, portrayed by Robert Aramayo, is less certain, embodying a determinedly "nice" bloke with a faintly frantic energy. His attempts to dispel her fears only draw them into heated arguments, including a slanging match about his porn habits. This dynamic powerfully exposes the essential untruth behind the phrase "we are pregnant." While both are expecting a child, it is her body that bears the physical pain and, often, the societal blame.
Cutting Through Clichés and Half-Truths
Norris's play ruthlessly cleaves through the dense tangle of clichés, taboos, and half-truths that society employs to sanitise the messy, often ugly realities of pregnancy and birth. It speaks candidly about blood-soaked pads and bedpans full of vomit, refusing to shy away from the visceral details. Sheehy saturates each scene with a palpable sense of constant, nervy exhaustion, so drained by the internal turmoil that her partner becomes an often unwelcome distraction—especially when he resorts to reading her poetry.
Aramayo's role, while compelling, feels slightly less nourished. Biology has excluded him from a process that concerns him deeply, and the pain of that exclusion is immense. However, the script sometimes lacks insight into what simmers beneath his robust exterior or why he repeatedly references literary greats and higher powers. At times, the scenes between the pair slip into an overly repetitive dynamic, lingering a touch too long.
Impressive Structure and Ultimately Hopeful
Despite these minor flaws, Norris's play is both very funny and impressively solid in its structure. Directed by Jeremy Herrin in a lucid, psychologically astute production, it feels like a condensed television five-parter. Each closely naturalistic scene is divided by an impenetrable wall of darkness and noise, heightening the emotional claustrophobia. We never witness how this central couple functions without the weight of tragedy, but the final scene offers space to imagine what they could become.
For all its overpowering bleakness, there is something ultimately hopeful about Norris's work. By detailing every hideous contour of this pair's suffering, he ultimately shows that even this profound pain is survivable. The play stands as a courageous, necessary examination of the realities often left unspoken.
