So good it would have made Ibsen envious: Dixon and Daughters, at the Dorfman Theatre, reviewed

Deborah Bruce’s new play Dixon and Daughters is a family drama that opens on a note of sour mistrust. We’re in a working-class home in Yorkshire where a vituperative old crosspatch, Mary, has just returned from prison. Rather than accepting her daughters’ friendly welcome she treats them all with open hostility.

Her first malevolent act is to try to evict Julie, even though her boyfriend has subjected her to horrific and repeated violence. And Mary is highly suspicious of the absent Briana who has changed her name and is threatening to return home, by force if necessary. What was Briana’s crime? And why is Mary so hostile to Julie who clearly needs her love and support? The first hour feels like a forced visit to a snake-pit full of outraged females whose feuds are being tempered unsuccessfully by the warm and intelligent Bernie. She’s the only character who has a job and a large enough income to afford smart, fashionable clothes.

Then the puzzle deepens. To annoy her angry daughters, Mary invites a damaged Cockney beggar, Leigh, to share the family home. Leigh (Posy Sterling) has suffered so much sexual abuse that she can only see men as physical objects to be exploited or neutralised. She explains in robotic tones how to pacify a vulnerable male with dextrous fingers and how to flatten an aggressive male with a well-aimed headbutt.

When she arrives in the sitting room, hungry, penniless, and wrapped in a filthy blanket, she speaks with such frail and needy gratitude that her performance seems to come from real life rather than an actor’s imagination.

Much of the play has the same amazing air of naturalism, and the dialogue feels like a verbatim documentary. And though humour is never far from the surface, the show refuses to stray down the avenue of comedy.