In The Hills of California, Jez Butterworth crafts an emotionally layered drama set not in the sun-drenched West Coast, as the title might suggest, but in the bleak seaside town of Blackpool, England. The Hills of California, in fact, is a song—an emblem of dreams, nostalgia, and escape that punctuates the emotional landscape of the play. Directed with keen sensitivity by Sam Mendes, the production explores themes of longing, regret, and the difficult ties that bind families together.
The play centers on four sisters grappling with their individual pasts and shared histories. Reunited under less-than-ideal circumstances, their interactions are loaded with the emotional weight of unsaid words, past betrayals, and unfulfilled dreams. The contrast between the bleakness of Blackpool and the idealized notion of “California” serves as a poignant metaphor throughout the play—the California of their dreams is a place of warmth, light, and hope, far removed from the gritty realities of their current lives.
Laura Donnelly Photo by Joan Marcus
We start in the present as three emotionally damaged sisters gather at their childhood home to stand vigil for their dying mother Veronica (Laura Donnelly), waiting for a fourth sister, Joan (also played by Donnelly). Jill (Helena Wilson) is unmarried and has never left home caring for their mum. Ruby (Ophelia Lovibond) and Gloria’s (Leanne Best) lives have not fared any better. It seems Joan, left home for a recording career in the U.S.. She has been estranged from the family for the past two decades.
Nicola Turner, Nancy Allsop, Lara McDonnell and Sophia Ally,Photo by Mark Douet
As the play gets into the thick of things we go back in time to the mid-50s, Veronica Webb (Laura Donnelly), a disciplined but caring mother, drills her young daughters to become stars ala The Andrew Sisters. The sister’s are played by (Lara McDonnell, Nancy Allsop, Nicola Turner, Sophia Ally) who all sparkle with exuberance and talent. It is when they sing that the show comes alive.
Laura Donnelly, Lara McDonnell, Leanne Best, Nancy Allsop, Ophelia Lovibond, Sophia Ally, Helena Wilson and Nicola Turner .
What led to the family split, and the question of Joan’s uncertain return, hover over the proceedings, as the disappointed daughters exchange memories, grievances, and grief.
Helena Wilson, Laura Donnelly, Ophelia Lovibond Photo By Joan Marcus
Mendes’ direction is meticulous and atmospheric, bringing out the subtle tension in Butterworth’s writing. He utilizes the physical space of the stage to create a sense of confinement, with the setting mirroring the emotional isolation of the characters. The set design and costumes by Rob Howell and hauntingly lighting by Natasha Chivers, help Mendes, known for his ability to evoke intimacy in large-scale productions, create a world loaded with meaning. The fluid transitions between the scenes feel almost cinematic, with the rhythm of the play unfolding like a memory, hazy yet sharply vivid at the same time.
The performances are stellar across the board, with each sister delivering a portrayal that feels deeply lived-in. Their personalities clash in ways that feel authentic, each one a distinct reflection of how familial relationships can be simultaneously nurturing and destructive. The cast works in harmony to bring out Butterworth’s sharp, witty dialogue while allowing the more tender moments to resonate. Wilson shows Jill’s deeper side. Lovibond gives us the sadness underneath the bravado of Ruby and Best’s bitter bite gives way to the deeper wounds of Gloria’s rejection. Lara McDonnell, as the younger Joan, is spell binding letting us see the rebellion, tenacity and drive that mirrors her mother, but it is Donnelly who was Tony nomination for The Ferryman, that steals the show as both the mother and grown up daughter. She is richly layered, chilling, and heartbreaking when we learn what her dreams cost.
Also making an impression are David Wilson Barnes as Luther St. John, Richard Short, Bryan Dick and Richard Lumsden as the various men in the sister’s world. Ta’Rea Campbell brings humanity as a hospice nurse.
One of the standout moments comes when the song The Hills of California is performed. It’s a wistful and haunting melody that underscores the yearning for something better—a dream of escape to a place that may never truly exist. In this moment, the audience is invited to reflect on the distance between dreams and reality, a theme Butterworth masterfully weaves throughout the play.
It is hard not to compare The Hills of California to Gypsy, which is about to play just down the block. Gypsy is about outward ambition, the relentless pursuit of fame as Mama Rose pushes her daughters to become stars at all costs. Butterworth’s play, on the other hand, is about the quiet, internal struggles of characters whose dreams have been deferred and are sold out. Both deal with the consequences of ambition and family dynamics, but while Gypsy is a whirlwind of energy and showbiz, The Hills of California is a more delicate exploration of memory, regret, and the complex ties that tether us to the past.
The Johnny Mercer song they sing and the title of the play becomes the anthem for dreams shattered or never realized.
The hills of california will give ya a start
I guess i better warn ya cuz youlll lose you heart
Youll settle down forever and never stray from the view
The hills of califonia are waiting for you
The Hills of California: Broadhurst Theater, 235 W 44th Street.