Andrew Keatley - The Gathered Leaves Interview

10 years after its sold-out run in Park200, The Gathered Leaves returns, directed by former RSC Artistic Director Adrian Noble.

The Pennington family have not been in the same room for 17 years, yet on the eve of William’s 75th birthday all three generations gather in the hope that the mistakes of the past can be resigned to history.

The Cast of The Gathered Leaves. Photo by Rich Southgate.

An errant daughter, an autistic son, and a second son that could never just grasp the nettle; his children have always proved a disappointment to his lofty ambitions. With long-held resentments rising back to the surface, and new problems unexpectedly presenting themselves, any plans of family reconciliation may give way to further turmoil. But William knows he is running out of time to accept his family on their own terms – even if they cannot overlook his own shortcomings in return.

The Gathered Leaves is a moving, poignant and funny family drama that sees the weight of history, of reputation, and of expectation, all descend on one family over Easter weekend in 1997.

After reviewing the show Giada interviewed writer Andrew Keatley.

You’ve spoken about the long and winding journey of this play, from completing the first draft in 2009, to rehearsed readings in 2015, and finally finding a home at the Park Theatre this summer. I’ve always believed that plays are never truly finished: not just in terms of writing and editing, but also in how they remain in conversation with the time in which they're staged. Over the past 15 years, how many different shapes and forms has the play taken? What, if anything, has changed in the piece or in your own relationship to it now that it’s finally on stage?
 
AK: It's hard to accurately track but I do know that first draft of the play was long – over 140 pages. It definitely had more background about the history of the family – about their prominence in the Conservative party – but most of that had been cut by the time we were in rehearsals for the 5-week run at Park Theatre in 2015, and more of it went during those rehearsals. Probably the biggest change this time around is that the play is now set in one room – the drawing room of the Pennington family; the 2015 version of the play moved between the kitchen, the drawing room, and William’s study –which involved various small set changes, which on balance probably interrupted the flow of the drama more than was necessary. So this time around it became about threadingthose scenes together in one space – on a single set. I think in the 2015 version there were technically about 17 different “scenes”, whereas now there are 9 (including an extra scene featuring the younger versions of Giles and Samuel). There are also hundreds of small edits, many of which were made after the initial run, in the build-up to starting rehearsals, and then again in the rehearsal room. Really it’s trying to achieve life by a thousand small cuts.

Jonathan Hyde. Photo by Rich Southgate.

Tolstoy famously wrote that “all happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” What’s going on for the Penningtons? In what way do you see their unhappiness as specific and unique? The play is set in the late 90s: what makes their struggles still contemporary 30 years later?

AK: I think generational shifts are a big thing. My grandparents were part of The Silent Generation (all four of them served in the Second World War) and the effect of that must have been huge. Because of those experiences I thinkthey became incredibly adept at coping – largely by supressing their emotions probably. Then the Baby Boomers came along and had hope and opportunity and the Swinging Sixties, where it was all about feelings and expression – and the gulf between those two generations must have been huge. Then there’s everyone from Generation X – like me – with the digital revolution, political correctness and the birth of the internet. The characters in the play are (I hope) specific, and the dynamic that they form is unique but hopefully recognisable. We’re all struggling to understand ourselves, let alone one another, and age has this way of carrying subjective bias; when you’re young you think older generations are set in their ways, and when you’re older you think the young are a bit naïve about what life holds. And when you have someone like William Pennington at the head of the family, who is not shy about announcing what he expects and demands, then you are on a fast train to conflict, disappointment and regret.
 
I’d describe your piece as a “family” play: not only in subject, but also in the way it invites audiences of all ages to connect with different generational perspectives. Personally, I found myself empathising most with the youngest generation, perhaps because of my proximity in age. They’re the ones challenging assumptions, picking up the slack, and pushing the family forward. Are you suggesting that the younger generation is more open or emotionally intelligent than those who came before?

AK: I wonder if that’s just a result of those generational baselines. I think it’s about the person you are encouraged to be. William and Olivia have grown up under certain conditions, and that shapes a person to view the world in a certain way – and the home that they made for their children was very different to the one that Sophie and Giles make for Simon and Emily. It’s the battle between staying in line and conforming, versus expressing yourself and exploring the unknown. Knowing what is best for your child is a tough balance to strike for anyone; sometimes they need to be encouraged and sometimes they need to be told no. I think for William in particular he would have focused on the moments they needed to be told no, whereas I think Giles – and Alice too – are focusing on when they can encourage. For what it’s worth I think progress is always likely to come from the younger generation – both in terms of fresh attitudes to what the future might look like, but also in terms of the passionrequired to believe that such a future can actually be realised.
 
The real casualties, it seems, are the middle generation. Alice, Giles, and Samuel are caught between the weight of the past and the demands of the future. They carry so much emotional labour and seem ill-equipped, yet they keep trying, driven by love. Is this an exploration of generational trauma? Are they the ones trying, consciously or not, to break inherited patterns?

AK: I think everyone is a casualty – everyone has been caught in these blasts – and it’s hard to know whose wounds are the most debilitating. I think the fact that William is the one who has drawn the battle-lines – that he is the person whose actions and reactions detonated these blasts – exposes him to a whole different level of damage. He made the decision to withhold love from his children. That eventual realisation is a painful one, but when it comes then he also has that huge level of guilt to contend with – whether he can make his peace with it or not.
 
The patriarch William is such a rich and complex character. As an audience member, I found myself swinging between frustration, laughter, and unexpected tenderness, rooting for his small gestures of growth, like staying up with his granddaughter or watching his sons play. How did you approach writing his emotional arc? Ultimately, do you want the audience to understand and maybe even forgive him?
 
AK: I think ideally it’s generally a good idea to keep everything in play – that there should always be the possibility for any character to defy expectations one way or another. Everyone – including William – desperately want the family to find some sort of resolution to the difficulties of the past, but the obstacles feel almost insurmountable. The fact that William is facing the reality of that his faculties are in decline provides a certain lit match – and the return of Alice and arrival of Aurelia offers a second one – and therefore he is in the grip of change, and it’s a race against time. The ghosts that haunt William – the death of his brother, his secret affair, his estrangement from Alice and Aurelia, his disappointment in his sons – they all find a way to lift slightly over the course of the play. It’s those events that help to move William closer to his family. And I think that’s what we all want; that ability to get closer to the people that we love.

(L to R) Richard Stirling and Chris Larkin - Photo by Rich Southgate.

Among William’s many failings, his refusal (or inability) to understand his son’s autism is particularly painful. The programme notes that autism was misunderstood for decades, with serious research only beginning in the 1970s. The play, set in the late 1990s, captures a moment when conversations around neurodivergence were just starting to enter the public sphere. From a writing perspective, how do you approach research in a way that’s both accurate and respectful, and how do you then translate that understanding into character and story?
 
AK: I think the fact that the play is set in 1997 meant that I really needed to focus on attitudes from the late 1940s – when Samuel was born – up until 1997, and everything beyond that was interesting but, in terms of the play, largely irrelevant. I wanted to know what William and Olivia might have been faced with – in the mid-1950s – when it would have probably become apparent that Samuel was developing at a slightly different rate from the average child. The best thing I did was spend a couple of hours with Dr Lorna Wing, who was not only one of the world’s biggest authorities on autism but was also the mother of an autistic child who was born in the 1950s. Having the chance to speak to Lorna – and have her field my questions about the circumstances surrounding this formative fictional family – really shaped the character of Samuel and the landscape of the play. I doubt I’ll ever be that fortunate again when researching a play.

The Gathered Leaves plays at Park Theatre in London until Saturday 20th September 2025. Tickets are available from https://parktheatre.co.uk/events/the-gathered-leaves/