Abingdonian 2020

14 The Abingdonian Every Brilliant Thing In November 2019, members of the third and fourth year put on a performance like no other, and I was lucky enough to be part of it. Duncan Macmillan’s 2014 play Every Brilliant Thing , written with OA Jonny Donahoe, is quite possibly the most challenging production I have been involved with. The story is simple enough. The play follows the protagonist from the age of seven into early adulthood, and relates his efforts to counter his mother’s attempts to end her life by creating a list of all the brilliant things he can think of. Despite the serious subject matter, the play is full of laughter. One reviewer described it as “One of the funniest plays you’ll ever see about depression – and possibly one of the funniest plays you’ll ever see, full stop.” A case in point was the scene showing the protagonist’s hilariously bad flirting technique. But there were also moments of sombre reflection and sadness, including the play’s ending, in which the mother finally succeeds in taking her life. For me, the real challenge, and what made the play so unique, was the form in which it is written. The play has just one character, referred to in the script as ‘Narrator’. In the original production, this role was played by OA Jonny Donahoe, but in our version, the lines were divided between fifteen actors, who changed places on stage like tag wrestlers, each one relating the next part of the character’s story. Some scenes involved everyone on stage at the same time; in others, individual actors had the stage to themselves. Passing the storytelling baton smoothly and swiftly was one part of the challenge, but another, even more demanding aspect of the play was the fact that it called for other roles – such as the Narrator’s father, a therapist, a university lecturer, the girl the Narrator eventually marries, and so on - to be played by members of the audience. This required us to select then prompt chosen spectators through a series of largely improvised encounters whose course we would never fully be able to predict or rehearse before the actual show. I had never before seen this done, suffice to say, it was a challenge to pull off. But we did it, thanks in large part to the invaluable help and advice we received from Jonny Donahoe, who created the role in the original production and went on to play it more than five hundred times, including for a film version recorded during the play’s New York run. The workshop with Jonny was undoubtedly a highlight of the experience for all of us. Jonny explained how, as the audience entered, he gave out numbered pieces of paper, each bearing a line of dialogue, and told the recipient that when their number was called out in the play, they should say their line as loudly as possible. While he gave out the pieces of paper, he was also scanning the audience in search of the most appropriate people to cast in the main roles. This was the challenge facing us, but when the performances came round, we managed it pretty well. Another unique aspect of the production was the Palletdrome, an intimate, steeply tiered theatre-in-the-round, created specifically for this show by the Amey Theatre Technical Crew under the direction of Nick Lloyd, George Killick, Steve King and Emma Fever. Made entirely out of recycled wooden pallets, it was truly a one-of-a-kind item. Built on the Amey Theatre stage, the structure allowed the actors to sit among the audience, and take to the stage quickly when required, or simply tell the story from where they were. This gave the performances momentum and helped audiences to feel more involved in the action. One of my scenes took place in a hospital, just after the mother had attempted suicide for the first time. I began on stage before approaching a couple in the audience and identifying them to the audience as “nice old people,” which of course produced a laugh, as the couples I chose each night were invariably not that old. I then sat down next to them and explained my idea of writing a list of all the brilliant things I could think of, before depositing a half-eaten bar of fudge on the lap of one of my victims. It was a sticky moment in every sense, but it got another laugh. A lovely surprise came after the final performance when we discovered that the playwright’s parents, who live in Oxfordshire, were in the audience. They were so enthusiastic about the show that they immediately set up a Facetime call between the actors, our director Mr Taylor and their son, which meant we all found ourselves in conversation with Duncan Macmillan! He congratulated and thanked us for taking on the play, before asking us how we’d found the experience of performing it. For me, the answer was easy: the performances had been challenging, but great fun and a unique experience that I don’t think will ever be replicated. After all, I am not sure there can be another play in which I will stand watching my father completely forget he has a line to say and just stare blankly for a few seconds before suddenly blurting out, “Oh, the colour yellow!” Warwick Jones, 3JGHP