Tucked away above the lively hum of the pub, the Old Red Lion’s intimate black-box theatre provides a quietly atmospheric setting for Held, a one-hour play that is both sombre and gently humorous. The space is sparsely furnished – just three chairs serve as the only props, which sharpens the audience’s focus on the performances and the emotional landscape they inhabit.
The drama unfolds primarily in the care home where Mary, played with a vacant demeanour by Julia Munrow, now lives. Mary is deep into dementia, drifting in and out of lucidity, her speech a patchwork of memories, misfires, and sudden bright flashes of recollection. Munrow’s performance is often marked by a muted, almost withdrawn stillness, as though Mary is trapped in a private, indistinct world. Yet she punctuates this with striking bursts of animation – moments when past events involving her children flare up vividly, only to slip away again. It’s a portrayal that feels painful, fragmented, unpredictable, and edged with regret.
Mary’s sons, David and Simon, embody two very different responses to their parents’ cognitive decline. Jack Waterman’s David, the elder brother, carries years of resentment and unresolved hurt. His frustration is raw and unfiltered; he speaks to Mary as if volume alone might bridge the chasm between them, not recognising or perhaps refusing to confront that her confusion is out of his control, or indeed hers. Waterman’s performance captures the jagged defensiveness of a child who has never quite healed.
Elias Williams, as Simon, brings a gentler presence. The younger brother is tender, patient, and desperate to find remnants of the mother he once knew. Williams plays him with warmth and quiet vulnerability, especially as Simon grapples with his own philosophical and existential questions. A would-be scientist, Simon muses on atoms, protons, and the apparent chaos of existence – questions that mirror the instability of the world he now inhabits, where even familial bonds feel uncertain.
The play’s byline – “A Mother. Two Brothers. Three Minds. Different Memories.” proves apt. These are three people inhabiting three separate realities, orbiting each other but rarely meeting in the same emotional space. The structure of the play reflects this as scenes and memories clash, overlap, and contradict one another. At times, this disjointedness risks feeling unresolved; one leaves with the sense that the narrative has not quite coalesced, though perhaps that is a deliberate reflection of dementia itself, or of the fractured ways families remember.
The most affecting moment, for me, came when David reflects on the idea that when memory goes, so does the person. It struck a deeply personal chord, echoing my own experience of watching my mother lose her faculties to a terminal brain tumour. That line, simple and stark, carried a truth that lingers.
The production is marketed as “darkly comic,” but that tone didn’t fully register in performance; instead, the humour felt tentative, overshadowed by the seriousness of the themes. The story itself is compelling and the performances good, yet the overall piece would benefit from further development to tighten the structure and more confidently balance its emotional registers.
Held is thoughtful, moving, and at times intriguingly off-kilter, offering a glimpse into the imploding world of dementia and the ripple effects it casts across a family. With a little more cohesion and refinement, it could become a more powerful and resonant work.
Review by Bernadette Lintunen
A moving and darkly comic play about two brothers trying to cope with their mother’s dementia.
Elias Williams (Simon)
Julia Munrow (Mary)
Jack Waterman (David)
Written by Joe Ward Munrow
Directed by Linda Miller
Produced by Gabriela Chanova and Izzy Macpherson
HELD
Old Red Lion Theatre
4 to 15 November 2025
