Every Brilliant Thing

Has ever a show carrying cautions about 'themes of mental illness and self-harm' been able to generate so much capacity for optimism and joy?

This one-man-plus-willing-audience presentation is one that makes you want to hug the performer in question; not out of pity, but of gratitude and respect. Every Brilliant Thing elicits the kind of audible audience reactions - chuckles, gasps, and moans - that reflect total viewer engagement.

James Rowland delivers a solo performance that is effortlessly authoritative and amusing, gentle and poignant. He has the ability to bring his audience all the way along with him, deep into a condition of tragedy - then smoothly, almost imperceptibly, back into the light. Rowland also knows how and when to pause/linger for powerful effect, and incisively dramatizes the art of 'putting on a brave face' - plus his piano skills are pretty impressive!

The empathy, compassion, and imagination of writers Macmillan and Donahue pinpoints, perceptively and evocatively, the mixture of emotions that accompany death and its associated farewells; upon the mercy killing of a pet, our narrator can't decide whether the beloved dog just became lighter or heavier. This is also a piece of theatre that possesses the wisdom to turn the universal experience of adolescent infatuation into the grand, glorious joke it really is.

On one occasion, the feeling of improvisation comes close to rambling on and getting indulgent, while the audience participation, lovely in theory and mostly-so in practice, has its slight downfall in the varying volume levels that can make comprehension tricky. These tiny issues are rendered insignificant in the face of a thoroughly successful blend of laughter, sorrow, smiles, sighs, and glorious groovy music!

Every Brilliant Thing doesn't need a momentous ending; it's appropriate for us to simply feel that life can, and will, go on - because we have spent the previous sixty minutes getting closer to life, in all its endless wonder. 

Anthony Vawser

Photographer: Shane Reid