THE WHITE CHIP at London’s Southwark Theatre, Borough

Ed Coleman as Steven photography Danny Kaan

When I first heard the title The White Chip I wondered if it was about a casino or a comment on white collar workers. How wrong was I! Fact is this is a play based upon the roller coaster ride of writer Sean Daniels, whose own experience with alcoholism has shaped the concept and content of this autobiographical account. Mirroring the ups and downs of his life, we are taken on a journey of sadness, humour but most of all empathy, where we experience the unmasking of theatre director, Steven, who is on top of the world with a successful career but who hides a terrifying existence behind a facade of joviality, of a decline into alcoholism and despair. A harrowing reflection on Daniels himself who has taken snippets of the characters he met on his journey to include in this highly sensitive piece.

Just to educate myself, I checked out the term 'White Chip'. Certainly it could refer to poker chips, but here it has quite a different definition. When attending a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous or other programmes that aid recovery, the attendee is given a white chip if it can be shown that they have achieved 24 hours of sobriety. The more earned, well, that would show commitment to recovery.

But first we need to learn more of Steven's background. What led him on this path? And so we embark on a timeline, meeting 12 year old Steven, brought up as a Mormon but sneaking a beer with his friend. To his next stage as a college student – you know, the type that loves to party (more booze). And then to his career in theatre, having working lunches and attending parties – yep, even more booze and from there his decline. All portrayed at a speed that allows a momentary view into these stages.

And Steven regales his colleagues with stories of his escapades whilst drunk. Of course, this amuses and he holds court, gaining popularity. But here is the mask, the descent into alcoholism which he manages to hide successfully under his joyful and somewhat eccentric veneer. We might laugh, but there is a sadness that is quite overwhelming, particularly as we are aware of his denouement. Steven knows what is happening to him, but he can't stop, daren't desist.

Ed Coleman (Steven) photography Danny Kaan

Steven is descending into his own abyss. His behaviour is less buoyant and far more revealing. In his own words, he is an alcoholic control freak, he cannot/will not be helped. On this helter-skelter ride we meet figures who have had an influence in his more recent years, who are separate from his career. Relationships, including one with his father who is suffering from Parkinsons, his alcoholic mother whose behaviour was influenced by her dependence on drink, in combination reveal the person that Steven has become. But now he has begun his quest for recovery. In truth, he can't do it on his own and this is what the production reveals. That we need support to get us through the hard times as well as to share with on the better times. And at last, after an exhausting ride, we share his joy at recovery, counting the days he has achieved in sobriety.

We need light, we need humour. 'Mainly I want to use this play to destroy shame. Destroy shame through comedy.' (Sean Daniels)

Writer Sean Daniels has offered this play in part as a 'love letter to his mom', that she saved his life when he was at his lowest. Here in the play, Steven too has his life saved in his discovery and understanding of the science of alcoholism.

The set itself is minimal, with only a few props and some balloons, with occasional flashes of lighting. The attention is absolutely on the trio, there are no distractions.

Directed in the UK by Matt Ryan, this is a three-hander, where Mara Allen and Ashlee Irish complement Ed Coleman's Steven. Coleman himself plays his role with honesty and credibility. His energy is boundless and might be considered frantic, manic but this behaviour reveals the desperate madness that he is living. Played with integrity, this is one to leave you deep in thought.

Ed Coleman, Mara Allen and Ashlee Irish photography Danny Kaan

This production is working closely with Performing Recovery, the public face of the Addiction Recovery Arts Network. A percentage of every ticket sold will be donated to this organisation.

Running time: 1 hr 40 mins, no interval.

Age guidance 11+

Photographer: Danny Kaan

Listings: Southwark Playhouse Borough, 77-85 Newington Causeway, London SE1 6BD. 9th July – 16th August 2025. Box Office link: southwarkplayhouse.co.uk/productions/the-white-chip/

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