Every Brilliant Thing

Content Warning : Adult themes, references to self-harm and suicide.

There are so very many remarkable elements within this one-person play/narrative/monologue, however one theme has stayed with me since seeing Every Brilliant Thing: the delight and wonder of childhood juxtaposed against the effects of growing up amidst emotional trauma.

Playwright Duncan MacMillan shares the writing credit with Jonny Donahoe due to the latter’s intimate contributions to shaping the text as the original performer of the work which premiered in June 2013 at the Ludlow Fringe Festival.  The play was conceived by these two creatives and was based upon MacMillan’s short story Sleeve Notes, an image often mentioned with warmth and connection by the character in reference to beloved LP record covers.

Every Brilliant Thing is intended to be performed in the round and gives a democratic sense to the work as the audience is drawn into an endearingly intimate relationship with the tale and character.  Charismatic performer Jimi Bani, whose cultural heritage hails from the Torres Strait Islands, enthrals the audience with care, respect, and riveting story-telling for the entire one act play.  Bani is so eminently present in the world of the play that the audience is entirely immersed and invested.  This actor’s thoughtfulness and sensitivity shines when, at times, members of the audience are enticed into the performance space and invited to take on the mantle of various characters to progress the story beside Bani, the un-named ‘Narrator’.  We meet a vet who has to euthanize the boy’s beloved hound ‘Sherlock Bones’ (the boy’s first encounter with death), a subdued father figure driving to the hospital, a school counsellor with an empathic ‘sock dog’ puppet, and of course ‘Sam’ the lover to be.  Bani subtly manages to elicit the best from each person lured to the stage without losing momentum, and without any embarrassment to the audience member in the spotlight.

The Narrator talks about and portrays the main character as a seven year old, a seventeen year old, and as an adult, with the assistance of various gentle audience participation devices.  At each of these life stages, the character is presented with the dilemma of his mother’s mental illness and repeated suicide attempts.  There is also evidence of a strained relationship with his mostly silent father: “Your mother has done something stupid”.  This too will have a bearing on the character’s development and as the family dynamics are gradually revealed, good and poor, we begin to understand the depths in the story.

As a coping mechanism, and to spur his mum to be more open to the joys of life, the young boy decides to compose a list of all the amazing things life has to offer and subsequently sneaks this collection into his mother’s orbit in different ways: tucked under her pillow, taped to a jar lid, written on a cereal box flap.  Number one is ‘ice-cream’ - of course!  With an impressive show of memorization, Bani calls out the in-sequence number of many of the listed ‘brilliant things’ by which a previously set up audience member is prompted to respond with the written answer they possess; sometimes a one word exclamation, sometimes a sentence or two.  The university years alter the tenor of the list as it is put aside in despair after a gloomy visit home, then continues with the paramount discovery of love, joy, and attraction: “number 9994 - Friendly cats”, “number 9997 - Being cooked for”, “number 10000 - Waking up late with someone you love”. 

Later, the effects of trauma on the character as a child weigh on the trajectory of his adult life and both relationship and list are abandoned for a time.  Far from being maudlin, sadness in the story is ameliorated by the exuberance of happier moments and the utter charm of Bani in the role.  In a sense this disparity in the Narrator’s life matches the symptomatic ups and downs of mental illness and suicidal ideation which is outlined by a few well-placed, affecting, didactic psycho/medical recounts and factual statistics.  Though the subject is chilling, both the overall whimsy and lightness of the writing and the brilliance of the performance leave one with a sense of hope and the vision of uplifting possibilities; and after chatting in the foyer, it seems for many, the inspiration to begin their own list.

This production is directed with precision and sensitivity by Yasmin Gurreeboo.  It is clear that they cherish the text and thought deeply about how to design the action so that a full house, in the round, might be totally absorbed.         I also had the sense that close and mutually respectful teamwork was a feature of the rehearsal and development.  Design-wise, Kathryn Sproul has kept to a muted colour palette and a mostly bare stage which now and then is populated by small items from a storage box and the strategic placement of chairs.  Sproul also designed the written ‘list’ items to be renewed for each performance so that audience members might take home these small mementos.  The person next to me was holding a jar lid with writing on the underside. 

Music is an important element and the script is designed so that references to music might be altered for location, or perhaps a creative team’s tastes.  Sound designer Andrew Howard has woven various snippets of jazz and soul tracks throughout the work as references are made to the father’s/mother’s musical tastes (Ray Charles, Curtis Mayfield, Ornette Coleman, or Billie Holiday), or a lover’s favourite song.  These serve also as small points of rest in the monologue with the added flavour of emotional connection for the Narrator as he listens intently or grooves to a fragment of music.  Lighting design by Nic Mollison was also uncomplicated and the audience was visible for the entire play, further cementing our connection to the actor, the story, and each other.

Deeply moving and grounded in the elegant simplicity of the art of story weaving, Every Brilliant Thing shines like a warm-hued light in darkness as it takes on the deep thematic material.  It could well serve as a blueprint for any one of us attempting to navigate the complexities life presents.

Lisa Lanzi

Photographer: Matt Byrne.