Griefcase

Despite its title and themes of loss, I entered Griefcase unguarded: I’ve yet to be moved to tears by a play above a pub. Sixty minutes later, after a little but well-earned cry, any preconceptions I had about pint-fuelled fringe theatre had been shattered. Ru Lawrence breathes much-needed life into the ‘dead mum’ genre, capturing the guilt-flecked, destabilising nature of grief through sharp writing and movement.

G, played by creator Ru, is a gay man who is partying and working hard. Between snippets of impressively choreographed raves with his colleagues, we hear increasingly desperate pleas from his best friend (Poppy Janisch) to visit his dying mum (Collette Hodson).

When she dies, G’s life is shattered, no matter how hard he pretends otherwise. In a stifled lift conversation with a colleague (Jack St Leger), he is forced to answer the innocuous “you up to anything much at the weekend?” with the reality that he has to clear out his mum’s council flat. They respond by trying to relate through a dead dog.

Examples like this are universal, but it’s the specific memories that hit the hardest. They appear as fragmented, distorted flashes: grief slipping through the mask G has tried to put on for himself and those around him. These snippets reveal the full complexity of their relationship, from perfect moments, like her reassuring him that it doesn’t matter who he loves, to those that shine a light on the side of her he came to resent.

A standout moment comes in a confrontation with his best friend, who doesn’t understand his distance from her. As an adopted sister to the family, she only knew the fun side of his mum’s chaos: the open door, underage cigarettes and a space to bitch about boys. G, meanwhile, has had to live with its darker side: being abandoned on bar stools, with the only solace in a J20 from a pitying stranger.

Piecing the moments together is movement and sound that reflects the disorientation G is experiencing. Paolo Nutini’s Candy, the song he came out to, is slowed down and reverbed in more distressing scenes, and dance routines show him being pulled forwards and backwards from his friends. None of the cast miss a beat, whether it’s in their footwork or delivery.

The resolution is warm and fuzzy in the way you might expect, a welcome release from the chaos of the piece. Solace comes from familiar places: forgiveness, a friend’s embrace, or simply finding the strength to get dressed for the first time in days. But it’s the specificity of Lawrence’s writing that makes the story so affecting, whether you’ve lost someone or simply have your own amends to make.

You can catch Griefcase at the Hope & Anchor until the 3rd of October. It’s directed by Jack McKee and is part of Tailwinds productions.