The Roommate (Ensemble) ★★★★

Written by Jen Silverman. Australian Premiere. Ensemble Theatre. 19 Jun – 25 Jul. 2026.

Two women, both seeking a later-in-life change, share more than just a home in Jen Silverman’s play The Roommate. This may sound like I’m damning with faint praise – but it’s just nice to sit back and enjoy an easy, funny, mild play that’s produced perfectly. It’s not much to ask for, but sadly, it’s all too rare.

Meek Iowan divorcee Sharon (Lucy Bell) is setting out on a new, unexpected chapter of her life. Single for the first time in decades she’s decided to rent out a room in her big home to a flatmate. Enter Robyn (Belinda Bromilow), a slightly shady lady from New York with a lot of secrets. Together they embark on an all-new adventure that breathes new life into them both.

The closest analog I can think of would be the Netflix series Grace & Frankie (which coincidentally debuted the same year as The Roommate – there must have been something in the water back in 2015), it’s a flawed comparison but you get the vibe of two very different women sharing space and growing to appreciate each other in unexpected ways. As the warm but brittle Sharon rubs up against the guarded but generous Robyn she starts to see there is more to life than her failed marriage and distant, adult son (a nice voice cameo by Jeremy Waters).

From afar it looks like Silverman has recycled rote caricatures – the friendly but naive mid-Western mother and the tough, streetwise, jaded New Yorker – but their writing layers in textures and specificity, which Bell and Bromilow fully utilise. Both Sharon and Robyn are mothers, both have failed marriages, both are trying to leave parts of their past behind them and start afresh and both performers bring a whole history to their characters.

Bell’s Sharon is a delight to watch. A bundle of awkward uneasiness wrapped in civility and innocence, her joy at finding new hobbies and new experiences is as heartwarming as it is funny. Quirky without veering into annoying, Bell manages to embody every new discovery in her whole physicality. Against her, Bromilow’s Robyn is more calm, an observer cautiously interacting with the wildlife she’s discovered. Her guardedness never reads as rough or aggressive, but as wounded and wary. Both characters have hidden depths. Together the two navigate a whole relationship in the 95 minutes that tugs at your heart enough to elicit an audible awww in the final scene.

Director Lee Lewis keeps the action tight, in a small kitchen space, focused on the two women at the play’s core. This focus lets the characters go deeper, the dynamics of the story are writ in their reactions, not in large movements or set changes. Madeleine Picard’s sound knows when to step to the foreground for effects, as does Matt Cox’s naturalistic lighting.

Yes, this is a domestic two-hander about women in their 50s. It has no gigantic plot twists or shocking revelations. But it has a rhythm, a grace and an attention to character that elevates it above its apparent simplicity. And this production captures all that with refreshing and enjoyable ease.