“Two people can be moving together, relative to the rest of the world. And yet, relative to each other, they’re still”
Sam’s really busy: applying for a PhD in physics, babysitting her new nephew, and supporting her mum who’s going through chemo. When she bumps into up-and-coming novelist Paul on a train, she instantly feels like she’s met someone who can keep up with her.
Their relationship picks up momentum as they race through stations and milestones together. But is there an obstacle on the tracks?
Using Newton’s laws of motion as an unexpected lens through which to explore the forces that shape our lives, Stephanie Greenwood’s gripping new romantic comedy-turned-psychological thriller is an exploration of love, trust, and what it takes to get off a train hurtling in the wrong direction.
We sat down with writer and performer Stephanie Greenwood to explore the piece further.
Relative Motion stems from your own experience of a turbulent relationship. How did you navigate the journey from personal memory to theatrical storytelling, and at what point did you realise this story needed to be told on stage?
The play originally started from a short story that I wrote on a train when I was coming out of a rather difficult relationship. I was watching houses go by and also watching all these people on the train with me. I felt so disconnected from my own life and I used frames of reference as a (somewhat clunky) metaphor. I was so intrigued by this idea that something is only moving or still relative to another point. If I’m sitting on a train, then relative to that train, I am still. But if the train is moving, then someone outside of that train would perceive me as moving. The coercive control element unfortunately came from that relationship.
The play originally started from a short story that I wrote on a train when I was coming out of a rather difficult relationship. I was watching houses go by and also watching all these people on the train with me. I felt so disconnected from my own life and I used frames of reference as a (somewhat clunky) metaphor. I was so intrigued by this idea that something is only moving or still relative to another point. If I’m sitting on a train, then relative to that train, I am still. But if the train is moving, then someone outside of that train would perceive me as moving. The coercive control element unfortunately came from that relationship.
I then dove back into the basics of physics – refreshing my memory from when I did Physics for the IB (in sixth form). Once I looked into Newton’s three laws of motion again, it felt like they clicked into place as a way of describing how a relationship can work. The characters and story then developed quite naturally once those elements came together.
This play would not be what it is without the number of R&Ds that I have done and the number of people who have given me their time and feedback. Two big questions followed the play throughout its development: 1) is the physics clear? and 2) (more importantly) is this a story that has wider relevance.
What made me really think that I wanted to keep working on this project was the response I got from early drafts. Every single woman who read a draft of this play or worked on it in a development told me that they had either experienced a relationship like this or had a close friend who had been. As more personal experiences have been shared with me, I’ve been struck by just how much they have in common. It felt like a very relevant story to be telling and not one that I have seen on stage in this way.
What made me really think that I wanted to keep working on this project was the response I got from early drafts. Every single woman who read a draft of this play or worked on it in a development told me that they had either experienced a relationship like this or had a close friend who had been. As more personal experiences have been shared with me, I’ve been struck by just how much they have in common. It felt like a very relevant story to be telling and not one that I have seen on stage in this way.
The play explores how coercive control subtly takes root rather than arriving all at once. How did you approach writing the early "rom-com" stages of Sam and Paul's relationship to ensure the audience falls in love with them before the dynamic begins to shift?
This was a big focus of the second development! A lot of the early feedback I got was that the readers weren’t buying this relationship. Why was Sam with Paul in the first place? I went back and really focused on what they loved about each other and what made them fall in love in the first place. To me, what is so scary about relationships involving coercive control is that the love can feel really big and really special. I think it is so key that you believe in them as a couple and you see the sparks fly: we need to see and experience that joy. I love rom-coms (The Holiday is one of my favourite films) so I really enjoyed writing these scenes. I am a big romantic at heart.
This was a big focus of the second development! A lot of the early feedback I got was that the readers weren’t buying this relationship. Why was Sam with Paul in the first place? I went back and really focused on what they loved about each other and what made them fall in love in the first place. To me, what is so scary about relationships involving coercive control is that the love can feel really big and really special. I think it is so key that you believe in them as a couple and you see the sparks fly: we need to see and experience that joy. I love rom-coms (The Holiday is one of my favourite films) so I really enjoyed writing these scenes. I am a big romantic at heart.
Using Isaac Newton’s laws of motion as a structural and thematic framework is a fascinating concept. Which specific law or physical principle was the most compelling—or challenging—to translate into human dynamics and psychological manipulation?
For each of the laws, there was a real AHA! moment where I figured out how each law could map onto their relationship. However, I do think the second law was probably the most challenging. The first law is about how an object will stay as it is (inertia) unless something happens to it. That felt quite straightforward in terms of them meeting and starting off the whole play. The third law is every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Likewise, I found that a moment at the end of the play mapped onto that very nicely.
For each of the laws, there was a real AHA! moment where I figured out how each law could map onto their relationship. However, I do think the second law was probably the most challenging. The first law is about how an object will stay as it is (inertia) unless something happens to it. That felt quite straightforward in terms of them meeting and starting off the whole play. The third law is every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Likewise, I found that a moment at the end of the play mapped onto that very nicely.
Newton’s second law is force equals mass times acceleration. And I got a bit stuck. Why did that matter? How could it matter? And then I remember delving into it further and understanding that this equation allows us helps us to determine the trajectory of an object. Applying the equation in that way opened up the possibility of playing with what happens when Sam is not aware of all the forces. She thinks her relationship is headed in one direction; she’s mapped out the trajectory. And then, suddenly, it changes.
The play uses physics—a discipline defined by certainty and predictable rules—to examine something as chaotic and subject to perspective as coercive control. How does that contrast between scientific certainty and emotional complexity play out on stage?
There is a real tension between Sam’s moments of grappling for certainty using science when her life gets really turbulent. That layer of complexity emerged in the most recent draft once I started working with our director, Wiebke Green. She asked me a question about the science sections that unlocked a whole new way of using them to explore Sam’s destabilisation. There is also an irony because Sam (as a physicist) is studying quantum theory and dark matter, fields where there is still so much that we don’t know. Whereas Paul is a character who very much likes to be in control but he’s a creative. I am hoping the audience enjoys these different layers of tension.
There is a real tension between Sam’s moments of grappling for certainty using science when her life gets really turbulent. That layer of complexity emerged in the most recent draft once I started working with our director, Wiebke Green. She asked me a question about the science sections that unlocked a whole new way of using them to explore Sam’s destabilisation. There is also an irony because Sam (as a physicist) is studying quantum theory and dark matter, fields where there is still so much that we don’t know. Whereas Paul is a character who very much likes to be in control but he’s a creative. I am hoping the audience enjoys these different layers of tension.
Relative Motion blends romantic comedy, psychological thriller, and black comedy. How do you balance humour with tension when dealing with a topic as heavy as emotional abuse without undercutting the serious reality of the situation?
I’ve always been drawn to comedy in serious moments. I think it’s a really human thing to do! Sometimes humour can often really underline the drama or tragedy of a moment whether there is a funny line or if character does something out of the ordinary. As I was writing this, it was not a linear process. I had to experiment with which jokes worked and where the play needed moments of levity. I think comedy and tragedy do exist side by side in our lives though so I hope that’s what I’ve put on stage.
I’ve always been drawn to comedy in serious moments. I think it’s a really human thing to do! Sometimes humour can often really underline the drama or tragedy of a moment whether there is a funny line or if character does something out of the ordinary. As I was writing this, it was not a linear process. I had to experiment with which jokes worked and where the play needed moments of levity. I think comedy and tragedy do exist side by side in our lives though so I hope that’s what I’ve put on stage.
Both Sam (a physics student) and Paul (an aspiring novelist) deal in narrative framing—one through empirical science, the other through fiction. How do their different ways of making sense of the world feed into their power struggle?
I’ve touched on this a little but what I find very interesting is the ways Paul struggles more with uncertainty than Sam does. She is exploring the unknown and he sees writing and telling stories as a way of keeping control of a situation. Sam also does very much like things to be in order, and she can be very particular. Whereas Paul does think and exist in more of a grey area in terms of how he sees the world. But I like that they contain multitudes!
I’ve touched on this a little but what I find very interesting is the ways Paul struggles more with uncertainty than Sam does. She is exploring the unknown and he sees writing and telling stories as a way of keeping control of a situation. Sam also does very much like things to be in order, and she can be very particular. Whereas Paul does think and exist in more of a grey area in terms of how he sees the world. But I like that they contain multitudes!
You’re working with award-winning British-German director Wiebke Green for this premiere. How has collaborating with Wiebke helped shape the staging and pace of these shifting power dynamics in an intimate space like The Little at Southwark Playhouse Borough?
Wiebke has been phenomenal at creating such a positive environment where we can try out new ideas and aren’t afraid to fail a little. She’s got such a great understanding of the play and has created a world that feels very true to the script. She immediately picked up on the strengths of the story but also interrogated the weaker moments or places in the story where Sam was beginning to fracture. She has really brought the play to life as we witness Sam’s unravelling. In the rehearsal room, she has so many fantastic ideas but balances that so well with including us actors in her decisions, giving us agency over our characters.
Wiebke has been phenomenal at creating such a positive environment where we can try out new ideas and aren’t afraid to fail a little. She’s got such a great understanding of the play and has created a world that feels very true to the script. She immediately picked up on the strengths of the story but also interrogated the weaker moments or places in the story where Sam was beginning to fracture. She has really brought the play to life as we witness Sam’s unravelling. In the rehearsal room, she has so many fantastic ideas but balances that so well with including us actors in her decisions, giving us agency over our characters.
Your theatre company, Very Rascals, previously brought hit shows like It’s Beautiful, Over There and How Not to Fund a Honeymoon to the Edinburgh Fringe. How does Relative Motion build on or evolve the artistic ethos of Very Rascals?
I created Very Rascals with my close friend Charlotte Keith and we always knew that we wanted to highlight women’s stories and prioritise working with women. Our mission has always been to champion stories by intersectional feminist theatre-makers, particularly work that explores social issues through communication.
Relative Motion fits into that ethos because of the story its telling and the perspective its telling it from. Sam’s story explores how coercive control within a relationship can affect someone’s identity. We also wanted to make sure that this ethos extended to working with women off stage as well. I am so proud of the team that our producer Claire Feuille and our director Wiebke Green have pulled together. This show is the longest run that we have done and we’re excited about the possibilities of creating more work and producing more stories that we think are really important.
As a British-South African playwright working in London, how do your background and cross-cultural perspective influence the stories you choose to tell and the way you write character relationships?
This is quite a tricky question! My immediate reaction was that it doesn’t but I’m not sure that’s true. I grew up moving around a lot and as a result I was the “new girl” in school many, many times. I think, when learning how to reinvent and reintroduce myself to a new environment and rebuild a life every couple of years, I spent a lot of time listening to people and observing social dynamics. Each place we lived was different, so I had to learn the rules and how the world operated every time we moved. I think that the muscle of watching and listening really helped me integrate each time my world changed and I think that has lent itself to creating people and relationships in writing. When I sit down to write, I feel less like I am creating a scene and more like I am overhearing a conversation and I just have to make sure I can write down what I am hearing fast enough for the conversation to make sense.
This is quite a tricky question! My immediate reaction was that it doesn’t but I’m not sure that’s true. I grew up moving around a lot and as a result I was the “new girl” in school many, many times. I think, when learning how to reinvent and reintroduce myself to a new environment and rebuild a life every couple of years, I spent a lot of time listening to people and observing social dynamics. Each place we lived was different, so I had to learn the rules and how the world operated every time we moved. I think that the muscle of watching and listening really helped me integrate each time my world changed and I think that has lent itself to creating people and relationships in writing. When I sit down to write, I feel less like I am creating a scene and more like I am overhearing a conversation and I just have to make sure I can write down what I am hearing fast enough for the conversation to make sense.
What was the first piece of theatre which had a big impact on you?
There have been many powerful pieces of theatre over the years, but one of the first that really inspired me was A Midsummer Night’s Dream at Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre. I saw it when I was maybe six or seven and I knew I wanted to be part of the magic immediately.
There have been many powerful pieces of theatre over the years, but one of the first that really inspired me was A Midsummer Night’s Dream at Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre. I saw it when I was maybe six or seven and I knew I wanted to be part of the magic immediately.
However, the first piece of theatre that made me want to create stories was The Drowned Man, an immersive piece of theatre by Punchdrunk. It was the most creative production I’d ever seen! It really challenged what I thought theatre could be and I was entranced.
The play closely examines the stories we tell ourselves after a relationship ends and how hindsight alters memory. What do you hope audiences take away about the difficulty of recognising warning signs while you are actively inside the relationship?
I didn’t want characters that were black and white because that’s not real and also not where the danger lies. The dangerous moment in a relationship is where something that you felt was strong and lovely and safe becomes unsettling. I hope that audiences come out discussing the relationship they’ve just watched! I want them to reflect on the behaviour they’ve seen, the possible red flags, and their own lives and relationships.
I didn’t want characters that were black and white because that’s not real and also not where the danger lies. The dangerous moment in a relationship is where something that you felt was strong and lovely and safe becomes unsettling. I hope that audiences come out discussing the relationship they’ve just watched! I want them to reflect on the behaviour they’ve seen, the possible red flags, and their own lives and relationships.
Relative Motion is coming to Southwark Playhouse Borough from 11th November – 5th December 2026. For tickets and more information, visit: https://southwarkplayhouse.co.uk/productions/relative-motion/


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