Four brightly lit boxes greet the audience, forming a two-up, two-down style Belfast house which also doubles as a hospital treatment room. The design is unadorned yet effective, with lighting shifts deftly guiding us through the play’s scene changes.
Early on, we learn that Niall (played by Cormac McAlinden) is deeply troubled. A desperate 3 a.m. phone call to his sister Brigid (Catherine Rees) precedes a harrowing act of self-destruction, in which he sets fire to himself, sustaining serious burns to his arm. From that moment, Brigid feels an overwhelming sense of responsibility. She brings Niall into her home to care for him, her protectiveness morphing into obsession as she tries to manage both his recovery and her own guilt.
For a play that tackles such a heavy subject – self-harm through fire, with its shocking physical and psychological consequences, playwright Eoin McAndrew handles the material with remarkable dexterity. He balances emotional honesty with sharp, dark humour, using comedy not to undercut the seriousness, but to illuminate it. The result is a piece that is at once moving and bitingly funny. McAndrew’s writing captures the absurdity that often coexists with despair, achieving a tone of gallows humour that feels both authentic and humane.
McAlinden gives a deeply sympathetic performance as Niall – a man we can’t help but root for, even when his behaviour is erratic or self-sabotaging. He finds genuine comedy in bleak circumstances, particularly in his interactions with Brigid’s boyfriend, Michael Doran (played by Conor O’Donnell). Michael is portrayed as a well-meaning but socially awkward man, hopelessly infatuated with Brigid and oblivious to the complexities of the siblings’ bond. His attempts to help are often misplaced, and Niall’s interaction with him are some of the funniest moments.
Rees’s Brigid is the emotional anchor of the piece. Her fierce protectiveness and simmering frustration reflect the impossible tightrope walked by those caring for a loved one with mental health struggles. The dynamic between the three characters feels lived-in and painfully believable.
McAndrew also weaves in a subtle but powerful commentary on the state of mental health care in the UK, where overburdened services and long waiting lists leave people like Niall to navigate recovery largely on their own (or with the financial help from nearest and dearest). This systemic failure hangs over the play like a shadow, amplifying the tension and despair that drive its characters’ actions.
Despite its heavy themes, Little Brother is a surprisingly enjoyable hour and a half. Its blend of humour, compassion, and raw honesty ensures it never feels exploitative or overly sentimental. Instead, it leaves us reflecting on the messy, contradictory realities of sibling love, romantic love, guilt, and survival.
A darkly funny, heartfelt exploration of mental illness and family bonds, performed with sensitivity and wit.
Review by Bernadette Lintunen
Little Brother is Eoin McAndrew’s darkly comic new play about sibling love, self-destruction, and what it means to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.
Set in modern-day Belfast, it asks what happens when the systems designed to help us fall short, and love is doing more heavy lifting than it should.
Cast: Cormac McAlinden, Cathering Rees, Conor O’Donnell, Laura Dos Santos
Written by Eoin McAndrew
Directed by Emma Jordan
Zoë Hurwitz – Set and Costume Designer
Bethany Gupwell – Lighting Designer
Katie Richardson – Sound Designer and Composer
Áine O’Sullivan – Casting Director
Millie Foy – Assistant Director
LITTLE BROTHER
Soho Theatre Dean Street
16 October to 22 November 2025
