An unpredictable narrative, but one anchored by the assured central performance.
Dear Cathy is an emotionally layered one-woman play about infertility, grief and the strain these place on a relationship. Written and directed by John Brindley, the piece avoids sentimentality and instead unfolds in a series of unexpected turns.
The staging is minimal: a chair set in front of a video camera, a mirror in one corner and a small table with everyday items that suggest a private domestic space. Amelia Sweetland enters dressed simply, preparing to record herself. What begins as a slightly awkward address to her sister, “Dear Cathy,” quickly establishes the premise as Lucy is documenting the past, trying to account for months of retreat. The camera becomes both a confessional device and a structural anchor for the play.
Sweetland’s performance carries the production. She captures Lucy’s initial awkwardness on camera before shifting into more fully realised scenes where she transitions between states of hesitation, frustration and moments of humour. As Lucy recounts her difficulty conceiving with her husband, Richard, the play opens into a broader exploration of how infertility affects identity and partnership and how both are affected by something so personal. However, just as a scene seems to settle, it pivots, introducing new emotional stakes or reframing earlier assumptions, creating a succession of small but cumulative shocks.
The structure falls into two parts, split by Lucy returning to the camera to speak to Cathy. In the first, Sweetland moves between Lucy and Richard in extended exchanges, differentiating the two through subtle physical and vocal adjustments. The distinctions are clear and consistent, shaped by direction from Georgia Emily Scott and movement work by Jennie Dunne. In the second half, Richard is no longer directly voiced. This change narrows the focus and places more weight on her internal response, which becomes increasingly reflective.
Design is kept minimal and used sparingly. Costume changes come from a box at the front of the stage and are used to signal shifts in time or mood. A screen at the back appears only a few times, mainly early on, showing short clips and images adding context without competing for attention, with the lighting clearly separating the “recorded” moments from the enacted scenes and supporting transitions in tone.
Alongside original music by Polo Piatti, Valli’s “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” appears in two very different versions, one loud and full, the other stripped back and subdued. The contrast works well, pulling focus onto the lyrics and their sense of longing and attachment. At times, Piatti’s music doesn’t just sit underneath the action but actually shapes its rhythm, structuring and pushing reflective scenes forward.
What stands out most is how often the play shifts direction. It continually unsettles, delivering moments that catch the audience off guard and accumulate into something affecting, allowing the play to handle a difficult topic with care and honesty. Overall, Dear Cathy is a strong, tightly made piece, carried by a strong, compelling performance from Amelia Sweetland, leaving a lasting and memorable impression.
Dear Cathy runs until Saturday 25th April at the Bread and Roses Theatre, London. Tickets available here.