Ollie Maddigan’s mum is dead but he’s too busy trying to kiss girls to be sad about it. This open-hearted solo show, based on Maddigan’s own life, is a love letter to his mum – to all mums, really – told with unguarded love and wicked wit. Tickets should come with tissues.
Maddigan plays his cocky 15 year-old-self, who is running from grief on top of dealing with the typical horrors of teenage angst. We start with the important information: how to befriend the cool guy at school, how to secure the strong stuff (cider) for the park, and which porn sites are top of the range. Maddigan’s expressions are elastic as he builds up this teenage world of crass jokes and uncontrollable erections, while anything more serious is pushed away for later. When he first tells us about his mum, he zooms through the fact of her death as if it’s just another detail in his day. Like everything’s totally fine.
For all his bullish confidence and adult affectations, Scott Le Crass’s direction constantly reminds us that our arrogant protagonist is only a kid, as Maddigan slumps in a plastic chair in his school uniform and too-short tie, fretting over how to talk to the hot girl in his science class. Lighting director Adam Jefferys’ green strobes are the first signs of grief nipping at Ollie’s heels. Maddigan rapidly papers over the cracks with the next crude gag, his comic presentation deft and self-assured.
Gradually, he undoes us with humour. And when he finally gives up all pretense of being okay, his earnest words to his mum are orchestrated by our weepy, percussive sniffs.
The shape of the story is predictable, as Maddigan’s irreverent, swaggering confidence shatters into the acceptance of his grief. It’s sweet, neat writing. But the emotional grip and clarity of the telling is what gives this familiar tale such strength, as we fall in love with his cheek, his smarm, and his candid sorrow. Grief can make us insular but this is an incredibly generous performance, as the specificity of Maddigan’s story welcomes in our own reckonings with death, ushering in a line of lost loved ones and inviting them all to take a seat.
At Southwark Playhouse, London, until 31 January
