Every Brilliant Thing
Nun’s Island Theatre
★★★★☆
The proposal is not that listing all the good stuff – Every Brilliant Thing of the title – in life is going to cure severe depression. But it serves as a framework for a more nuanced, and at times heartbreaking, reflection on mental illness than you might expect from a show with a lot of audience participation, many laughs and high entertainment value.
The protagonist here is Clare Barrett, as a six-year-old child trying to deal with the aftermath of her chronically depressed mother in hospital after having “done something stupid”. Her mother finds it hard to be happy, so the child starts to make a list of everything that’s brilliant about the world, all the things that are worth living for. She starts with number one, “Ice-cream”, moves through to number four: “Laughing so hard you shoot milk out your nose”. And on and on. As she grows and life twists and turns, the list becomes longer and more complex.
Considering the joys of life, small and large, and adding them to the list of every brilliant thing, becomes something that changes the daughter, rather than the mother. The items become jumping off points for exploring a soul-filled (in all senses) life; some of the soul comes from two live musicians, just offstage.
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It is a deceptively simple premise at the heart of English playwright Duncan MacMillan’s smartly structured 2013 play, which has been performed internationally and closer to home. But it’s a complicated performance to manage by the solitary performer, wrapping multiple audience members into the narrative, so that every performance is slightly different.
Beauty & the Beast review: On the way home, younger audience members re-enact scenes. There’s no higher recommendation
Matt Cooper: I’m an only child. I’ve always been conscious of not having brothers or sisters
A Dublin scam: After more than 10 years in New York, nothing like this had ever happened to me
Patrick Freyne: I am becoming a demotivational speaker – let’s all have an averagely productive December
Clare Barrett is likable, vulnerable, and utterly charming in managing the vagaries of improvised audience participation, while also treading the line: neither dismissing nor simplifying the challenges and complexities of life’s difficulties, but luxuriating in its good things. Her performance straddles innocent pleasure and fun, and also vulnerability, pain and acceptance. She does so with a light touch, kindness and comic timing.
An interactive monologue about suicide and depression, it’s ultimately life-affirming, and also a very enjoyable experience.
Runs until July 30th as part of Galway International Arts Festival. Giaf.ie
