Love Letters to the Public Transport System

One woman espousing her love for TFL and Northern Rail may not sound like everyone’s cup of tea. And on paper, Molly Taylor's solo performance, Love Letters to the Public Transport System, has the potential to dissolve into twee schmaltz. Trains, buses, and how they 'transport' us? Hmm. But in fact, this show is far from cutesy, carried by a thoughtful artist who falls into none of the typical pitfalls of solo-performer acts.

It would be an underestimation of Taylor to call her mastery of storytelling simply natural. A one-person show captained by a trained actor will always run the risk of getting hammy and becoming a vehicle (no pun intended) for 'character work.' Taylor’s restraint from becoming too theatrical is clearly engineered with surgical precision. And for this restraint, the hour with her in the Assembly Rooms becomes an unforgettable one. We truly are hearing Taylor’s stories—from the troubled artist desperate to reconnect with a newly high-profile friend, to a Glaswegian woman finding redemption through her bus driver, to Taylor's own bittersweet Brixton love story—rather than witnessing a thesp showcase her versatility. There are only a handful of funny voices, promise.

Taylor is aware that she could easily antagonise her audience with overwhelming charm (she has lots of it), and the strength of Love Letters... comes in its writing first and its performance second. If a self-awareness of her medium comes off as preachy at times—the final five minutes are arguably an unnecessary restatement of the the show’s more subtle themes—then it only fleetingly distracts from this poignant and engaging work.