A Tupperware of Ashes

 

This is a play about all sorts of things, primarily dementia, what it means for the individual and those who care for them, but also immigration, specifically Indian cultural identity and the importance of food amongst many other things.  All of this is woven into a family drama with Lear like undertones and a deeply engaging lead in Queenie (Meera Syal).  

Harrowing and dark topics here are surrounded by humour and love, but that doesn’t mask the difficulties this family faces. There’s a lyrical feel to Queenie’s inner life and memories which turn the mundane into something magical, including magic tricks (the butterfly turning into a crumpled hanky was both clever and made a poignant point) and song and poetry .  The challenges of being second generation immigrants are played out here too with an additional dimension in that modern day dilemma of how to care for members of your family that cannot care for themselves. This is being placed in a very specific time frame, calling out the impact that covid had on the care industry, both the cared for and carers.  And the bureaucracy of death, born out of a colonial past, is also given an airing too, leading to that nicely bathetic scene on the edge of the Ganges.  

The whole cast is excellent, and Meera Syal is really impressive as Queenie, being the fierce matriarch who is a mother/mother in law from hell, a business woman, a frightened old lady and a young newlywed sometimes at the same time, and making us care about and believe in every version of this woman. And I really enjoyed every appearance of Ameet (Zubin Varla), Queenie’s long dead husband; also being the officiant at the scattering of ashes was a nice touch.

At the interval we talked about the scariness of dementia and the inevitable bad bits of ageing, but the play is a bit of a tapestry, and by the end everything had found its place as part of a story of a life well lived, not perfect by any means , but with love and joy not completely lost in amongst the harder realities.  

Update:  I was reflecting on this play (it was the sort of play that invites reflection) and it reminded me of Penelope Lively's Moon Tiger, also about a difficult woman with a hinterland filled with love and passion that no one in her family ever knows about.  And isn't that one of the things about getting older, that the people who knew the other facets of you gradually vanish, so that all is known by others is a caricature, or at least only part of the story.