The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven. Or words to that effect. This quote from Milton’s Paradise Lost seems apt when thinking about the prevalence of mental health issues in current new writing for British stages. Perhaps this subject reflects the long shadow of the pandemic, or our greater sensitivity to such conditions.
Either way, playwright and actor Naomi Denny’s new play, All the Happy Things, which was nominated for Soho Theatre’s Tony Craze Award in 2020, and now has a production in this venue’s studio space, speaks sincerely about death and grief with a real sense of emotional truth. It’s a dark comedy, with its young writer part of the cast.
Sienna (Denny) is a highly motivated professional in her mid-20s who lost her older sister Emily in a road accident about a year ago. The suddenness of her death, the shock of it, is shown by the fact that Emily is still present in her sister’s mind, a physical presence in her life, a person she can talk to. In a way that reminds me of Noël Coward’s Blithe Spirit, Sienna is the only one able to see and talk to Emily, which results in some comic moments as her boyfriend Sam wonders who on earth she’s chatting with. But can Sienna in some way begin to become less dependent on her sister, or will grief consume her whole existence?
All the Happy Things is written with great tenderness and emotional intelligence. Although the two sisters bicker, argue and swap recriminations in a way that is instantly recognizable, and very perceptive, there is also a warmly idealistic side to the writing. Sam is a kind of fantasy boyfriend, very attentive, very physically present, very understanding. Even when he gets a bit angry, he’s still a good person. At various points in this short 70-minute play, I wanted him to snap a bit more. Come on, let’s have some sharper conflict, some more edge.
But if this story has very little drama in its plotting, it does explore the feelings of the characters with enormous empathy. As well as showing the depth of Sienna’s feelings for her dead sister, the play also focuses on her work-related stress as her boss Kevin asks her to do more and more things. Then there is her father, who lives in a home and needs more and more care because of his increasing dementia. There is also a lovely scene in which Sienna meets Ruby, Emily’s lover, and as they both talk there is a fleeting connection as well as a mild tension. All these episodes are punctuated by snatches of phone conversations which fill out the picture of this family’s life.
Denny includes the kind of everyday incidents that make grief a constant presence in the lives of the bereaved. A bag of mini-cheddars, which were Emily’s favourite, or an unopened birthday card, or a playlist which has been lost but needs, really needs, to be recreated. Strong memories include the sisters dancing and singing to “No Scrubs” by TLC, and, in a realistic touch, typically each powerfully emotional moment has a humorous side to it. Annual occasions, such as anniversaries and birthdays, carry the expected charge. If, in the end, this is quite a slender play, it does have its depths too.
Director Lucy Jane Atkinson gives the production a quiet grounded stillness, which is enlivened by movement director Yemurai Zvayara’s light swaying and dance moves. Denny’s Sienna is a well-organised individual whose life is fracturing around the edges, while by contrast LJ Johnson’s Emily is sarcastic, funny and often as light and as mischievous as any spirit would be. Their onstage chemistry, as they mirror each other’s movements, is great, and there’s a real sense that they are siblings. I also like Dejon Mullings as Sam, doubling as Kevin, while Johnson is also Ruby. Eamonn O’Dwyer’s soundscape adds to the atmosphere of this promising playwright’s deeply felt work.
