EdFringe Review: Every Brilliant Thing

A decade since its triumphant debut, Every Brilliant Thing, written and directed by Duncan Macmillan, returns to the Paines Plough Roundabout. Age has not wearied the text or the iconic performance of Jonny Donahoe – though he is noticeably beardier these days.

It’s a remarkable production, tailor-made for the intimate, in-the-round confines of the big yellow tent. This play wants participants, not an audience. That ambition could prove so very awkward, were it not for Donohoe’s innately trustworthy presence, and a very clever, though not manipulative text.

The result is a safe, inclusive space in which to tell the story of a life lived in orbit around a mother who struggles with depression and suicidal feelings. We meet him as a 7-year-old boy, unnamed and thus universal, and in crisis. His mother is in hospital, because as his Dad explains, ‘She’s done something stupid’.

“It’s a remarkable production, tailor-made for the intimate, in-the-round confines of the big yellow tent.”

On one level, what follows is a dramatic monologue describing the boy’s journey into manhood, his relationships with his parents, his first love, and his own battles with mental ill-health. The narrator is very likeable, vulnerable, and in search of support – the audience is that support group.

Distinguishing ‘Every Brilliant Thing’ from similar work is the boy’s ‘List of every brilliant thing in the world’. His logic is simple: Mum finds it hard to be happy, so he begins listing every brilliant thing in the world to make her happier. Think Ice Cream, Rollercoasters, or People falling over.

Mum’s struggles with happiness never go away, so he never stops making the list.

The audacious masterstroke of the play is to recruit multiple members of the audience to play important roles throughout. Again, this could so easily be superbly awkward, but it isn’t – not in the least. Why? Simply because Donohoe’s live autobiographer describes the parts into being before selecting (with consent) folks to play them. Once you’ve seen it done once, no one really has any reason to feel awkward – such is the masterful execution.

Further, before the play even begins, Donohoe is touring the audience handing out slips of paper. On each is one brilliant thing, and it’s number in the list. As he weaves entries in the list into the story, those holding a particular slip read it out. The result is a little like a symphony of wonderful things and experiences at times.

Whilst ‘Every Brilliant Thing’ isn’t based upon a true story, the story remains truthful. If the purpose of theatre is to reflect aspects of reality then it succeeds absolutely. Such is Jonny’s ownership of the tale, and the complete believability of this imagined history, that the factual basis becomes irrelevant.

Those for whom elements of the play ring true are advised to bring tissues. ‘Every Brilliant Thing’ is joyful, but it’s also emotionally devastating at times. Expect to laugh, clap, cheer, and weep before the lights go down on ‘Every Brilliant Thing.’