Every Brilliant Thing is a sweet, but ultimately flawed, play about depression, suicide and trying to get on with life.
Stemming originally from a monologue written by Duncan Macmillan and developed with co-author Jonny Donahoe, the play is about a child dealing with their mother’s suicidal depression by creating a list of all the brilliant things that make life worth living. As the character grows older, the list takes on new meanings as they deal with their own depression.
The show is at its best when its performer, Lenny Henry, is left to do crowd work, finding lots of humour in the script and playing the room brilliantly. The text frequently calls for audience members to play key characters in our protagonist’s life: his dad, the vet who put his dog down, his first love, Sam. Henry excels in these moments, creating warmth on stage and getting all of the comedy out of the fumbles and unexpected stars in the audience. Because of the nature of the show, set, sound and light are minimal, though in this respect directors Jeremy Herrin and Duncan Macmillan and their creative team do well.
When the show has to deal with its more serious side, however, things get more difficult. There are a few lines which feel like they are starting to take on the challenge of discussing suicide with real insight. We hear how sudden happiness – in this case falling in love – can actually produce a sense of fear, given the knowledge that what usually follows a dizzying up is a brutal crash. Likewise, in the beginning of the play, the text captures a child’s naive but revealing perspective nicely. But it never really moves beyond this, and in doing so runs the risk of cementing some unhelpful narratives about what depression and suicide are like.
For example, early on, Henry’s character is helped by a kind librarian who creates a sock-puppet character. The silliness of the idea pulls the young child out of shell. Years later, when the character finally confronts the depression, he has denied for so long, his salvation is found through calling up the same librarian and talking to the sock-puppet again. It’s a sweet idea, but it leans into a narrative that infantalises people with mental health issues. The play suggests that to be depressed is somehow immature, and that if people were enabled to embrace that immaturity, things could get better. It’s just a matter of perspective, keeping things light.
Similarly, depression and suicide are treated largely as individual problems. solvable with things like therapy, art or, indeed, a list of brilliant things. The play does hint at the limits of these approaches. There is a passing mention to the fact that the list could not, in the end, stop the character’s mother from committing suicide. But these moments are too fleeting to take effect, and we remain left with the impression that depression is not something rooted in socio-economic problems as well as personal ones. It is just one of those things we have to get on with. ‘That’s life’, Henry sings to us.
I suspect my view on this is not with the majority. Most of the audience absolutely loved this show and there is some value in producing a moment of collective catharsis. As the audience spilled out into the lobby, there was a clear lightness in their mood. People were cheered and comforted. This is no bad thing. What it isn’t is a frank look at suicide or depression. Every Brilliant Thing is light-hearted and fun, but maybe that isn’t quite right.
Every Brilliant Thing runs until 8th November at @sohoplace with tickets available at https://sohoplace.org/
Reviewer: Ralph Jeffreys
Reviewed: 7th August 2025
North West End UK Rating: