A warm, moving account of being single in old age
One in three UK divorces involve couples in their 50s and above, with over-50s the fastest-growing user base for dating apps like Tinder and Bumble. Invisible Me follows three such singletons, all newly 60 and living within a few streets of each other. Alec (Kevin N Golding) has bought himself a leather jacket, and still smiles at ladies half his age in the street and down the “caff”; Lynn (Tessa Peake-Jones) has taken a cleaning job to ensure she keeps leaving the house, her confidence having been crushed when her husband walked out on her years ago; Jack (James Holmes) runs through imagined conversations with his dead husband, debating whether now is the time to move on.
These stories are initially told as distinct monologues, narrated across each another but independently. It’s a bleak portrait of aging in the UK – framing a kind of quiet social disappearance. Each character remains onstage as the others talk, bodies scrunched up or slumped in a chair. As each story unfolds, however, they grow in confidence – one character finds themselves on OnlyFans! There are opportunities for healing – some taken, others missed. Across the show’s tight 80 minutes, a combination of dark humour and emotive drama simmers beneath.
Becoming familiar with each character amplifies this humour and drama. Lynn’s path most closely tracks the show’s trajectory: a chance encounter with a sex worker sets in motion events empowering her to seize her own narrative. Jack is harder to reach, torn between the fidelity of his memories and the need to continue living his life. The show doesn’t shy away from this rending sadness, and James Holmes similarly pulls no punches when delivering it. These are consistently the play’s most affecting moments. Alec is written as a “positive” counterweight to offset the doom and gloom; but instead comes across as frightened and in denial. The show’s misreading darkens the piece, sharpening the drama but leaving earlier scenes unrelenting in their sadness.
Much of the humour derives from the banal specifics of ageing – excitement at free London bus travel, the joy of grabbing a coffee whilst everyone’s at work, and the inevitable medical test kit through the letterbox – ably delivered by the whole cast. A very funny scene involves all three independently discovering the depravity on online dating, and another where Jack catalogues each aspect of his body in the mirror, complete with attractiveness rating from 1-10.
The show’s singular perspectives effectively capture each character’s unique isolation, and as their narratives slowly intersect each life is woven into a shared story. A satisfying conclusion provides a thoroughly joined-up testament to the healing power of human connection. It’s a subtly beautiful storytelling device, naturally building pace as each character emerges from their shell.
Invisible Me started out livestreamed as part of the Bloomsbury Festival during the COVID19 lockdowns of 2020, which can only have heightened its feeling of isolation. In this in-person version, the staging grows alongside its characters – starting out minimal, and blooming into confidence. By pushing the characters into unusually extreme situations, the show blunts its observational insight. And weightier issues are alluded to – an AIDS diagnosis, an abusive relationship – but left unexplored.
Invisible Me tackles a rapidly expanding but under-represented experience with confidence and creativity. Its perspective is narrower than it should be, but still delivers both gut-punches and belly-laughs. Bold direction and strong performances ensure the characters’ journeys are captured not just in their words, but in the show’s staging itself. The result is a piece that earns its uplift without softening its emotional edge.
Invisible Me plays at the Southwark Playhouse until 2nd May, with Tuesday and Saturday matinees. Tickets can be purchased here.