Airlie Dodds, Huw Higginson, Hannah Waterman and Charlotte Friels. Photo: Phil Erbacher.
Acknowledging the inevitability of death seems to be all the rage at the moment, what with the TV series Swedish Death Cleaning and Ray Martin considering his burial/funeral options on his three-part doco on the ABC, but British playwright Laura Wade’s play is by far the most insightful and, despite the subject matter, often very funny.
It opens with 50-something Myra (Hannah Waterman), who we soon learn has bone cancer and has been given six to nine months to live, trying to break down barriers with her prickly (and, until recently, bulimic) daughter Jenna (Airlie Dodds). The pair are on a mission to find a suitable burial ground, because Myra has very definite ideas about where she wants to be laid to rest – and the whys and wherefores of getting there.
Back in Myra’s home, it soon becomes clear that the family dynamic is less than perfect. Alec (Huw Higginson) would rather bury his head in The Times than accept that his wife is dying; nor is he up to the simple task of getting the boiler fixed. It’s winter in England and the house has been freezing for months. Also chilly is Jenna’s relationship with her family, especially her sister Harriet (Charlotte Friels), who seems smugly content with her partner and life, whereas Jenna is most definitely not a happy bunny. Then there is the vexed question of what happened to Jenna’s missing cat?
When Myra delivers a draft PowerPoint presentation of her proposed funeral, things really get darkly funny, but there is another agenda here. Myra’s obsessing with such details as what or should not be thrown on her wicker or plywood coffin – no flowers. Perhaps glitter? – is her way of dealing with her impending demise, but she is also forcing her fractured family to come together to deal not only with that, but with each other – and, as she says herself, she hasn’t got long.
Of course, they cannot laugh off death and when the flatpack coffin turns up – Myra wants to decorate it herself – the mood inevitably darkens and the search for a suitable burial place becomes more urgent. It is a credit to director Janine Watson and this very impressive cast of four that the swings between macabre humour and heartrending pathos are managed so well. Waterman has most to do in this aspect and she is brilliant. A couple of lines come to mind as I write this. Did we know that it takes six weeks for a body to decompose? Length of the school holidays comes the rejoinder.
The set designer Michael Hankin has a difficult task here, with the action taking place either in the family home or in various English woodlands. The solution is a carpet of indeterminate greens that could be grass or moss when the occasion demands. Spring turns to summer (with help from video designer Mark Bolotin), the boiler is finally fixed and Alec starts to thaw, too. The sisters’ relationship is also subtly changing.
Colder Than Here is an honest and realistic portrayal of how we face up to death and loss. Or don’t. It is moving and thought-provoking. And not at all maudlin. As it unfolded, I remembered how it took the death of my late husband’s father to bring him and his estranged sister back together. Also, and I am going off piste here, it reminded me of a play I saw in the Opera House in 2019 called The Director, which was also about death and dying – a rather shocking but wonderfully frank and funny look at the commercial realities of the funeral business, and all after the event rather than advancing towards it. If any directors or producers are listening, can we see that again please?
But back to Colder Than Here. It’s 90 minutes long (no interval) and moves along at a cracking pace. And it’s on at the Ensemble until 12 October and highly recommended.
