Many years ago I had an illness which rendered me physically incapable of movement when I became very tired. I'd end up slumped on the sofa, unable to even open my eyes, although my brain was still awake and I could hear everything around me. Fortunately these bouts of zero movement would only last for a couple of hours at most, but could be very upsetting when people started to talk about me, unaware I could hear every word, but unable to respond.
So I was intrigued to see how these symptoms would be portrayed in someone who was unable to move for the rest of their life. And what impact that might have on those nearest to the person?
Ian has had a stroke. To the world he appears to be in a persistent vegetative state, but his conscious mind is active and trying to figure out what's happened to him, where he is and how can he let others know he's in here? Cath, his wife, spends hours, days, weeks, by his bedside, willing him to communicate with her, convinced there is something going on behind Ian's eyes. But when he finally shows signs of conscious activity her elation is tempered by glimpses of the future she can see before her. Locked-in syndrome means Ian can only communicate through movements of his eyes, a slow and frustrating process. Is that enough to maintain the relationship between them?
The drama explores the stresses this bleak situation brings, and the darker side of coping with such an extreme aspect of married life. Such intense subject matter could prove overwhelming for the audience, but Clare Duffy's writing delivers some wonderful moments of black humour. In Ian's opening monologue he has overheard a woman saying "Fuck, fuckitty bollocks" and is reassured that at least he's still in Scotland! There are plenty of local references to Edinburgh scattered throughout, with Portobello providing the best laughs, and you can't help but leave with an entirely new appreciation of the phrase 'death by chocolate'.
The staging is excellent and provides the actors with the opportunity to add some physicality to the fast paced script. For much of the play Ian's bedridden body is signified by an intriguingly constructed dummy, leaving Martin McCormick free to play out his inner discourse. Both he and Kirstin Murray deliver fine performances, well balanced between the mundanity of the everyday, and the fierce emotional moments when rational thought is not enough. Both leave the audience wondering how they might cope if placed in the position of either character, terrible in their different ways.
An intelligent and entertaining take on a challenging topic, and a rewarding way to spend fifty minutes. Oh, and I can recommend the curried cauliflower and chickpea pie!
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