Last week I went to the National to see a play apparently based on Antigone; this week the roots are meant to be in King Lear. Neither one, in my opinion, really deserves linkage to such heritage – two sisters or three children does not make it thus. But of the two, this one is by far the stronger. Anyone in the audience who has ageing parents will have undoubtedly started imaging themselves in equivalent circumstances, wondering what choice they will make if ever faced with the dilemma – do I take care of them myself, or do I put them in a home?

The script does a really good job of illustrating that in reality, this choice might not actually exist. Alzheimer’s is not an illness that turns people into unresponsive vegetables that can be tended to by anyone with a bit of determination and patience. It is difficult enough to deal with the painful jibes and abusive words of the mother as she becomes increasingly harsh and cruel. Over time, agitation turns into aggression: her states of confusion increase in frequency; she refuses to eat or take medication; she, runs off endangering herself and others. Even those lucky enough to have both space and time to take care of a loved one suffering from dementia may simply not be able to provide the care they need.

This play might not break new grounds, but it exposes the cruelty of the illness very well. I found the use of muffled audio very effective and the physical presence of Omit a clever way to illustrate Queenie’s grip on reality becoming progressively weaker. I especially liked the hammam scene transformed by the trick of an eye – one blink and reality changes completely.

What is a shame, however, is that the author did not go further in exploring the impact that the isolation enforced by COVID had on both the mother and on the children. The scene where Pawel comes into the room in full PPE terrifying the patient is very poignant, but most of that sequence plays out at enhanced speed leaving no time for reflection. We do not see the children at the time when no visitations were allowed, struggling with the consequences of their choice; we do not witness the accelerated deterioration of the mother’s cognitive state. The devastation wreaked by dementia has been explored in a number of superb films, such as Still Alice or, more recently, The Father – the author missed an opportunity to add a new dimension to this narrative.

And there would have been scope to do this, if the author had cut out a lot of the unnecessary guff that adds little and in fact detracts from the story. There are too many themes thrown at the audience, but not fully explored. This dilutes the focus of the play and makes it difficult to form any emotional attachment to the characters, especially those of the three children, who seem devoid of any agency.

This is exacerbated by the poor attempts at comedy, most notably the scene of trying to obtain a visa for the ashes. I know comic relief done well is a cornerstone of an emotionally charged play, but the right balance needs to be maintained. The visa scene made the sequence of going into the Ganges feel like a farce, not a culmination of life. I remain unclear whether the author cherishes the myth of the circle of life and supports the children’s journey with the ashes, or whether the author sees it as no more than a colourful pantomime for the tourists in the audience. The cultural elements to a person of non-Bengali background such as myself, but one who has visited Varanasi, felt overwhelmingly cliched and stereotypical.

In my opinion, the author attempted to pack too much into this production whilst being unable to decide whether this was meant to be a stage drama, a tragedy, a comedy, or in fact a bollywood film with cinematic-style montages. There were at least two moments when I felt as if a character was reading out a wikipedia page and  by the end, I was not even sure of the relevance of the mother’s career as a celebrated restauranteur

And this frustrates me given the importance of the topic, especially with the backdrop of the ongoing debate about assisted dying. Alzheimer’s is a microcosm of arguments going both ways. What a shame to waste stage time to show lobsters being delivered so as to have an excuse to play with some dry ice.