
It’s the 1950s and Trinidad is on the brink of independence as the structures of colonial rule begin to give way to a new era. That’s the world of Martina Laird’s ambitious and atmospheric debut play Driftwood. At its centre is Alma, a gentlemen’s club where secrets, rivalries and shifting loyalties are rising to the surface. Through the lives of its characters at the club, Laird explores identity, power, corruption and belonging, while painting a vivid picture of a nation in transition.
Pearl (Ellen Thomas) is the formidable manager of Alma who has given her life to making the club a success. She runs it as if it were her own, even though the actual owner is Mansion (Roger Ringrose), an English colonial businessman. Alongside her is her daughter Ruby (Cat White), restless and sharp, making money through small-time schemes with tourists and quietly dreaming of one day taking over Alma.
“Martina Laird’s writing is rich in detail and conveys a vivid portrait of Trinidadian society on the cusp of profound change”
Everything shifts with the arrival of Diamond (Martins Imhangbe). He turns up to deliver a shipment of rum, but that’s not all he’s delivering, he also brings the shock that he is Pearl’s long-lost abandoned son. Diamond wants answers about his past, but he’s also chasing quick money, which leads him into a risky black-market deal with Tom (Ziggy Heath), a corrupt U.S. Marine. At the same time, his relationship with his half-sister Ruby develops in ways that quickly complicate everything. Before long, these threads spark a chain reaction of secrets, betrayals and power struggles that put both the family and Alma itself under threat.
The production’s greatest strength lies in its cast. Ellen Thomas is superb as Pearl, strong and controlled but with a sense of buried regret. Martins Imhangbe brings real depth to Diamond too, balancing charm and vulnerability so well that his character remains sympathetic even when his actions become increasingly questionable. Cat White’s Ruby is just as compelling, bold, unpredictable and determined to take control of her own future no matter what.
The supporting cast is equally strong. Roger Ringrose gives Mansion a quiet authority that feels like the last gasp of colonial power. Ziggy Heath is all swagger and threat as Tom, the U.S. Marine who helps push things towards chaos. Shane David-Joseph adds a welcome warmth and light humour as Seldom the policeman.
Laird’s writing is full of life and rhythm, especially in the way she uses Trinidadian patois to give the dialogue a real texture and sense of place. The script tackles an ambitious range of themes, including family, identity, colonialism, race and economic power. At times, however, this ambition works against it. With so many narrative strands in play, certain storylines feel underdeveloped or are introduced only to be left insufficiently explored. As a result, some of the play’s emotional and political threads never fully land. Nevertheless, Laird’s writing is rich in detail and conveys a vivid portrait of Trinidadian society on the cusp of profound change.
Justin Audibert’s direction is bold and visually striking and it really brings both the intimacy of the family story and the wider political tensions into focus. While the production is consistently atmospheric, the pacing occasionally feels uneven. The first act unfolds slowly and would benefit from a little more dramatic momentum. However, the second half gathers pace, building a stronger sense of urgency as the action moves towards its tense climax.
Driftwood is an interesting and promising debut from Martina Laird. It is not without flaws but its strengths far outweigh its weaknesses. Richly atmospheric and emotionally engaging, it is populated by vividly drawn characters whose lives reflect the uncertainties of a society in transition. Supported by excellent performances across the cast, Driftwood stands as a compelling exploration of family, ownership, identity and the lingering legacy of colonialism.
Driftwood plays at the Kiln Theatre until 3 July 2026. See listing.





















