There are few superlatives that should be left in any dictionary after describing this sublime piece of theatre. A truly gifted artist at the centre of this is Ramesh Meyyappan. What is most remarkable about this piece of theatre is its simplicity. The ideas behind it are however presented with an eye to theatrical detail which, though standard fayre, happen to be exquisite in their execution.
Meyyappan plays Harry who has dementia and is in a home. His nurse—Elicia Daly—has to deal with the dementia and the fact that Harry is deaf. In an underappreciated profession, this is a woman who has a great deal of patience, and this is evident in a fully rounded character who has to deal with a complex one. Harry has visions of his past, including of his own self—played poignantly and with great skill by Rinkoo Barpaga—at whom the elder Harry has jealous fits.
Seeing his young self in the mirror infuriates him so much he attacks it. Seeing his previous self have time with his wife, he gets increasingly upset. At all times, he has a nurse who is trying to learn enough sign to communicate more effectively. But unwritten and unsaid is the fact that Harry is himself losing the ability to remember all the signs that make his life bearable before coming close to the end of it. It is truly tragic. In a world where sign is seen by most as a foreign language, here is a man fluent in it, losing his connections in a world that will never have seen him as an equal but now he cannot access the life he has held safe for himself.
It is the physical theatrical experience at which Meyyappan is so skilled that director Mathew Lenton has given such full vein to. The work with the mirror, the full set, the use of lighting and the astonishing use of music and soundscape marks this out. When he sees his former self, Harry’s reaction is not just obvious but it is on the edge of self-discovery. It is a discovery filled with irony, as Harry will never discover knowingly himself again.
Once more, and with this show returning, having made its debut in 2023, there seem to be layer upon layer of meanings which truly do transcend the stage and challenge our own misconceptions. Never is this more obvious than in a section involving a romantic meal at a table which defines this show. A memory, Harry and his wife, Elise—stunningly portrayed by Amy Kennedy—dance with the table and their chairs and always are wrapped up in each other. I was lost in the moment of it. It spoke of the physical embodiment of a beautiful moment between two people deeply and passionately in love. If there was a fully fledged example of why the work of Vanishing Point and Meyyappan is so vital to what we are developing in Scotland, this was it. Because it was so simple. Three pieces of furniture, common pieces, two actors, no words but acting of the most sublime quality matched by flowing movement that danced the idea.
The set too, with a two-way mirror, is like in a crime drama where we are allowed to be investigating and interrogating, but it is also used to project—Elise swimming across is a visual treat. The end of the piece, where Elise returns to ask him to follow, may be obvious, but it settles the beauty of this.
The tenderest moments are in sign and not in word. They are physical and visual rather than dependant upon a means of communication a lot of us cannot access—the spoken word. And in a situation filled with the undignified nature of an appalling illness, it imbues this with incredible dignity.
In a Fringe which should be filled with risk, this is not a risky thing to produce, but a tremendous piece of theatre which deserves to be seen as a central direction down which we should follow creatively, because this is an exceptional piece of creative thought, visual excellence and theatrical joy.