Outstanding reflection of life meeting death
“Six in total. Four for the flames, one for me, and one witness cremation…busy. Alright, let’s get started.”
Thus begins “Living With The Dead”, written by Cosette Bolt, and directed by Matthew Attwood for Not So Nice! theatre. The play follows a day in the life of Kris (Grace Ava Baker), a young crematorium worker at Storms Funeral Home and Crematorium. The cast are in seated in the waiting room, in preoccupied anticipation, whilst the audience files in, and Kris’ co-worker Evans (Chris Veteri) busies themselves with preparing for the day, and TV weather reports of approaching disasters flicker in the background.
The process that follows is simple but effective. From a central column, post-it notes with names and dates are plucked, the person is greeted by Kris with kind reassurance, and we are inserted back into their living world, with their final words and experiences, before they died.
The transition to death is symbolised with a placing of a white blanket over the shoulders of the dead, and they are accompanied by Kris out of sight, then reappearing in white, to be seated once again. This repeated motif balances with the differences that each story holds, and that every person is met with the same level of respect, and the acceptance that some people run their races faster than others, and do the best they can along the way.
The lives we drop into are Mrs Sparrow (Irena Komunjer) a grandmother with a fractious family history, with Kris taking up the mantle of her granddaughter in a two-handed discussion; Patch (Emily Mahi’ai) who also has a trying family circumstance to deal with, as well as two interviews; Sandy (Alyssa Munro) who has a sense of relief, shared with her father Andrew (Michael Stephens) and Katrina (Isabella Verlarde) whose loss is nothing short of heartbreaking.
The ways in which the stories are represented vary between physical movement, conversations, and with Katrina, a spectacular monologue. The emotion within each story and character is evident in every portrayal, striking resonance with the audience, written with care and tact. A particular line from Par (Erin Frances Speirs) to Patch, where they’re told “I love you, and every little piece of you that hurts” elicited soft sighs from around me. The actual tears that are shed by Kris and Katrina are poignant, but not in a way that feels mawkish or performative, the emotion in the characters is real.
That is not to say this is all death and tears – there is some tenderly comic light relief from the repartee between Kris and Evans, eating lunch together and throwing out Shakespeare quotes whilst discussing their work. A lovely chemistry between the two actors which brings the climax of the performance into sharp relief.
This play is not an easy watch and stands unapologetically on the knife edge of being intrusive, without tipping over. The immersive nature is reflected in the smallest details, with the programme framed as order of service, with crematorium team (cast), memorial service team (crew), obituary writer and managing director.
As the writer notes, these are not new stories but they are unique in their own ways. These aren’t the stories destined for true crime podcasts, or splashed across tabloids. But just six deaths, out of the tens of thousands of people who die per day. The shuddering final scenes with news reports spoken in multiple languages about deaths and destruction – we are bombarded daily with reports like these, be it due to natural disasters, terrorism, hate crimes, or any number of other atrocities. Just figures that we become numb to hearing, without processing the lives of those affected. This is a phenomenal piece of work, and one that deserves to be seen by many.