(seen at the afternoon preview performance on 7th August 2025)
Purely as an exercise in ‘audience participation,’ this is considerably more ambitious and successful than the ill-considered “Earnest?” the monkey was forced to endure at Richmond Theatre a few months ago.
It helped that the audience was far younger and more willing to go with it – and nimble enough in many cases to work with Lenny Henry without much prompting. Some clever thinking by some of them impressed all, adding much needed laughs to proceedings.
This creaky concept by Duncan “People, Places and Things” MacMillan and comedian Jonny Donahoe pre-dates MacMillan’s super-hit but covers similar ground.
A soon irritating list of “brilliant things” (called out by primed members of the audience – sit in stalls row F to avoid it) sadly excludes “never having to sit through a repetitive play again.” It is a slim premise to hang exploration of depression on, and expires without a decisive point being made.
Lenny Henry excels at crowd control, sadly at the expense of concentrating on building his character. He has not time to dissect what he produces; there’s always a civilian to prompt, a tricky piece of dialogue or stage-business to execute.
This prevents much emotional involvement in the life of a boy growing up with a suicidal mother. Sure, the flashes of time at age 7, teenage, university, graduate and divorcee are significant, but there is never a pause to connect the triangle of two lives and a list properly, to reflect on the real significance of the items he chooses.
Jeremy Herrin and Duncan Macmillan seem to give the actor only as much direction as avoids having his back to any section of the auditorium too frequently, and suggesting a pathway through the text – relying on Henry’s skill to navigate the participatory hazards.
Vicki Mortimer gives us a two airport cases for a set, relying on the audience to contribute other small items. Cute, but again slowing proceedings to irritatingly self-indulgent levels, when we want to crack on and maybe get at the point of the piece.
Likewise, Tom Gibbons cannot possibly amplify the whole audience, so without careful listening, lines from them are missed. He does make up for it with perfect balance when music and speech are required, but sadly his skills are defeated by other creatives’ concepts taking precedence.
And that, possibly, is the crux of the problem. Depression is the most selfish of conditions. It demands total attention of its victims, inserting itself into their lives as ineradicably as Japanese Knotweed in a garden. The roots poison the soil for those around, making it treacherous for anyone to approach and assist a struggling victim.
Reaching out with a humorous list is original, if, as Henry concludes, ultimately futile. The play scores best in this admission, its distinctive angle on the topic.
What it does not offer is depth of exploration to back up the concept. Amusing in parts, but never truly fulfilling nor as engaging as it might have been.
