For the first few minutes of the play, written by and starring Ben Moor, it seems as if we are about to witness a melancholic reflection on a lost marriage and the quiet despair one feels when love is absent and regret is ripe. Yet regret, as Moor explains, ‘is the bowl in which the best fruit spoils,’ and so the narrative takes a different course altogether.
This is not to say that what follows is devoid of poignancy, but rather that Moor’s decision to place his character in slightly perplexing situations allows the text to avoid cliché. Alice, who belongs to a friendship cult wherein yearbooks are kept to document and retain memories otherwise likely to be forgotten, contrives a meeting with our protagonist and lures him into becoming a member. It is commendable that Moor creates such a vivid depiction of a somewhat fanatical woman without her ever appearing on stage. The language of the play, punctuated with moments of nostalgia and witty character analysis, enables him to paint an authentic image of a fictional world without any props or notable stage design.
I did wonder whether the script could reveal a more disturbing side to the contrived nature of the friendship group which Moor’s character becomes a part of. At times this is hinted at (Alice’s yearbook contains personal details of his marriage) but if further extrapolated the play would benefit and might challenge the relaxed, reclined posture of most in the audience.
That aside, do go and see Each of Us. It’s funny, rich with lucid, original phrases and overall an impressive piece of work.
