It’s one of those Fringe successes people dream of mimicking. Since debuting in Edinburgh in 2014, Duncan Macmillan Every Brilliant Thing – co-written with its original star Jonny Donahoe – has earned rave reviews, been translated into numerous languages, including Spanish, Greek, and Mandarin, and performed all across the globe. Last year, it returned to the Fringe for a triumphant victory lap marking its tenth anniversary. But until now, this strangely uplifting show about depression had never received a West End run — perhaps because it was always deemed too intimate to upscale.
If there’s any larger venue fit to house Macmillan’s mini masterpiece, it is @sohoplace. In a co-production between Macmillan and Jeremy Herrin, the play is once again performed in-the-round, with the audience on all sides encouraged to join in and play their part. Over the course of its three-month stint, Donahoe, Ambika Mod, Sue Perkins and Minnie Driver will all take the lead role, but tonight’s performer is Lenny Henry. Dressed in a colourful patterned shirt, he sends smiles soaring across the crowd from the outset.
Still, in the larger space, it’s harder to build the same rapport. With a much greater capacity and the audience spread across three tiers, creating the world of the play feels less like a communal endeavour and more the responsibility of a select few. Henry is a gentle guide: first as the seven-year-old boy desperate to show his mum – who has depression – all the goodness in the world, and then as his older self, who has his own ‘black dog’ following him too. Physically, he shrinks into a childlike form before stretching into an awkward adult, all the while steering the evening as our host. He makes light jabs at audience members, restarts scenes when things go awry, and makes us laugh repeatedly.
Shaped around the boy’s initial desire to write a list of 1,000 brilliant things in the world, the play is deeply heartwarming. As he grows up, the list grows even longer, featuring everything from ‘ice cream’, ‘knowing someone so well they can check your teeth for broccoli’, and ‘the word goggles” to ‘the smell of old books’. Taken as a whole, the play is a lesson in noticing the wonder in life’s small things.
The conversation about mental health has moved on since 2014, and some lines, like ‘things will get better’ can gloss over unique circumstances and specific contexts. Nevertheless, the play’s message still lands today. For all its sorrow, the play gleams with hope. It is a truly brilliant thing.
