Review: Maybe I Should Stop (Lion & Unicorn Theatre)

Review by Eavan Prenter

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

There are many metrics by which you can measure a show - the writing, the acting, the design - but all of that falls away if it manages to do just one thing - move you. Before I lose you, I want to be clear that I don’t mean that you have to weep all night or have an epiphany about the meaning of life; I just mean that it makes you feel something. And what’s so brilliant about this is that it can happen anywhere; on the tiniest stage, the smallest budget. This is what keeps me going to the theatre; the promise that when I least expect it I’ll see someone say something genuinely new that catches me right in the feels. And so I find myself in a theatre above a pub in Kentish Town on a Tuesday night in October feeling genuinely moved by one man on a chair in Maybe I Should Stop.

The man is named Aaron. He’s an entertainer in his twenties, and he’s stolen his dad’s ashes and put them in a Celebrations box. He wants to scatter them at the beach in St. Ives where he and his family used to spend the summer, which would be fine except that his family aren’t so happy about this plan, and as for Aaron, well, he’s going through a lot - at least seven stages of grief, maybe even a few more. Between impressions and gags, we learn about the events that have brought Aaron to this point and what he’s hiding behind the humour.

Oscar Brudenall-Jones is both the writer and the performer, and is evidently very talented wearing either hat. If he has no experience in stand up I’ll eat one of those hats because he has both a keen aptitude for observation, describing the exact colour of seemingly all carpets in all care homes and commenting on the oddity of grieving in summer, as well as perfect comedic timing. At times he even seems to be feeding directly off the energy of the audience like only a vampiric comic can.

Shifting between Aaron’s internal and external worlds, Brudenall-Jones is larger-than-life one minute and a tightly-wound bundle of fear and grief the next. Abrupt switches in lighting are also used to differentiate between these two sides to Aaron, until he can’t contain his inner self anymore.

Other than the simple but effective lighting and some train announcements, there isn’t much else to show the audience where we are, nor do we see or directly hear from any other characters. I don’t mind shows that ask the audience to use their imagination, but I was a bit nervous that one man on a chair wouldn’t be enough to hold the audience’s attention for the full hour. However, in the end, I think it worked well. As the play goes on, it’s as if the audience are drawn further and further into Aaron’s world, almost becoming co-conspirators in his scheme, and the simplicity of the staging and performance in the beginning contrasts cleverly with the dramatic final third of the play.

Throughout the play, Brudenall-Jones is excellent at thwarting the audience’s expectations; zigging exactly when you think he will zag, and the ending is a perfect example of this. This clever writing is what impressed me much (to misquote Shania) about Maybe I Should Stop, but what made me love it is the bravery of writing so honestly about grief, and specifically grief caused by COVID-19. At one point Aaron does a Boris Johnson impersonation and the contrast between the bumbling humour and the real pain and anger Aaron feels was, for me, one of the highlights of the show. It’s also a perfect summary of the play as a whole - funny, honest, and moving - a pretty impressive feat for sixty minutes, one man and a single chair.

Maybe I Should Stop plays at the Lion and Unicorn Theatre until October 26th

For tickets and information visit https://www.thelionandunicorntheatre.com/whats-on