It isn’t uncommon for creative types to peg their passion projects as their ‘babies’. And for writer-producer Emily Beecher, that’s certainly the case for her Good Enough Mums Club. It’s been a long labour, too; whilst celebrating its World Premiere this week in the Birmingham Hippodrome’s Patrick Studio, the truth is Beecher and her team have been carrying Mums Club for just over a decade now.

It’s a show – about five friends undertaking and sharing their own journeys of motherhood – that bubbles with a passion and earnestness that you can tell stems from real, lived experiences and shared truths. Beecher’s own postpartum mental health diagnoses, for instance, underpin one of the show’s most emotionally resonant subplots.

Fundamentally, there’s a lot of honesty, and a whole heap of love, threading through Good Enough Mums Club.

Set in a community centre where its troupe of moms from varying walks of life come together for their own spot of respite and empathy (‘a night out for those who don’t get a night out’), the characters, whilst pitched fairly broad, are likeable and engaging. There’s fussy organiser Bea (Joanna Kirkland), quirky, dungaree-sporting Sophie (Amy Ross), nervy newcomer Esme (Belinda Wollaston), kindly but clumsy Michelle (Rebecca Bernice Amissah) and chav with a heart of gold, Chantel (Jade Samuels).

Mums Club’s ensemble styling wheels through each character and dips in and out of their emotional plights and personal challenges of the undefined and nebulous beast that is motherhood. It ranges from the fairly typical – uptight Bea, for instance, is disregarded as not having any worries by dint of her being fairly learned and not short of cash, but we quickly realise her home life is far from idyllic – to the more distinct and affecting. There are moments of genuine anguish and grief tucked in amongst the fun, dressing up, one-liners and mumsy banter.

“You will almost undoubtedly mine extra pathos, humour and heartbreak from Mums Club if you’re a card-carrying member yourself.”

There’s little shying away from the fact that here is a story and production that knows who its target audience is, and swings hard at that caucus. You will almost undoubtedly mine extra pathos, humour and heartbreak from Mums Club if you’re a card-carrying member yourself. One doesn’t wish to denigrate or reduce, as it’s a lovely and enjoyable show even at face value, but as the title fairly unabashedly suggests, it speaks to a very particular (and human) experience that this writer cannot entirely place themself in.

Its wholesome, mostly feel-good vibes of sisterly support, drooping boobs and self-deprecating feminine wit offer up shades of Helen Fielding, and it’s fairly consistently a show that is at its strongest when it is simply allowing its characters to be. Some of the more heightened set pieces – such as a feisty ode to lost youth and changing bodies – add a dash of theatricality and zest into the mix, but on the whole this is an intimate and focused piece, and that’s where it plays strongest. Sure, there’s the odd narrative complication or deviation thrown in (including perennial ‘can we save the community centre’ chestnut), but these are generally resolved with rapidity, and it’s the five women at Mums Club’s beating heart that we find ourselves drawn back to. Commentary on the state of public services and food bank usage amidst a cost of living crisis are further contextual flourishes that feel a trifle tacked on (if no less true or damning).

The five talented ladies leading the charge put in heartfelt and sincere performances throughout. Rebecca Bernice Amissah gets the least showy performance, but carries her Michelle with a quiet poise and dignity, and does a fine job performing a delicate number about shielding her twins from the prejudices of the world. Belinda Wollaston navigates the mental health challenges of Esme with conviction and a touching elegiac quality, with Jade Samuels is tremendous fun throughout as outspoken, brassy Brummy Chantel, cannily navigating the balance between being legitimately funny and broad, whilst never feeling overbearing or annoying.

“Joanna Kirkland and Amy Ross, meanwhile, are simply superb in two very different roles…”

Joanna Kirkland and Amy Ross, meanwhile, are simply superb in two very different roles, with the former shining in moments of quiet desperation and properness, and the latter effortlessly bandying between funny supporting type to devastating rawness when a long-held secret comes to the fore. As a collective, the chemistry and bond between the quintet is palpable and winning.

Now birthed into the world and its horrors, those wishing to posit Good Enough Mums Club within the landscape of being a new production in 2023 may argue that it lacks the originality or theatrical invention of say, a Strange Loop or Little Big Things. It plays its ideas, messages and human experiences quite literally, and regularly at face value. It likes to tell as much as it shows. And yet, hearing from and speaking to the mothers in particular in the audience, this is not necessarily a bad thing.

It has occasional moments of inspired silliness – see the odd interlude where we switch to the perspectives and thought processes of the ladies’ young tykes, who it turns out are nigh-machiavellian puppeteers of mischief and maternal woe – and a last-minute spot of audience participation is a great touch. But for the most part, what is here is hearty, familiar, and whilst not the most overwhelmingly ambitious or original piece of writing, feels in many ways exactly as it perhaps ought… an evening in the company of five friends giving you a heartfelt, warm hug of theatre.

And, as the show itself opines in its wholesome final moments, sometimes being just ‘good enough’ is best…