This is a tightly performed and sensitively directed play about the process of bereavement and post-war trauma. With many shows at the Fringe dealing in some way with the Iraq war and its fallout, this show, performed with powerful conviction by its young cast, tackles the subject from another angle: those families left behind. A man (Thomas Bell) has returned home from war with no memories of his former self. His wife and son (Niall Bletchy) struggle to recognise him behind the rocking, mumbling shell. Thomas Bell is deeply convincing as the man, and uses Toby Quashs tight script to his advantage, bringing a heightened intensity of emotion to the language. His committed performance goes so far as to make the audience worry for his safety as he throws himself around the stage, against floors and into baths. His quiet and saddened wife is another strong presence on stage; Izzie James has a simplicity of style and warm tone that give us an alternative world to nightmares and shelling. The former get worse as the man slowly begins to remember his own part in the atrocities that led to his memory loss. This regaining of memory is aided by a host of white boiler-suited figures who collectively push and harry him. These figures become more and more human as they move from within his mind to representing the other families effected by the loss of loved ones in war. The most moving scene in the whole show is silent, backed by soaring classical music as each figure steps forwards and creates a small freeze that seems to sum up the everyday moments of bereavement: trying to open a jar, attempting to fasten a necklace, collecting two cups of tea instead of one. In all these isolated instances, someone is vitally missing. Although it could have tackled the issue of war more directly, instead of its general soliloquies on loss, this doesnt remove its power, only its selling point. The show is deeply moving, and a real triumph for the young cast whose control and passion are remarkable throughout.
