Meteors

Meteors sees grief brought to the stage in a one-woman monologue by a daughter living through the death of her mother, moving backwards and forwards between childhood, diagnosis, treatment, death and what comes afterwards. Melissa Pullinger's story is told in fractured time, with the life before and after loss constantly folding into one another as she works out what grief really means.

Pullinger begins by remembering a solar eclipse, searching for the glasses that will let her watch it safely, before recalling going out with her mum to see a meteor. She is not even sure that what they saw was a meteor, but it hardly matters. They saw it together. These celestial moments give the piece a loose thread, less about the things themselves than what remains attached to them after someone is gone.

There is some great writing here. Whether it be 78 boxes of lasagna or awkwardly shouting to her Tinder date that her mum is dead, Pullinger's characterisation of the people surrounding grief and her interactions with them are often as interesting as the grief itself. As well wishes arrive to comfort her family, she describes a “life of prayer and lavender”. Cancer, too, becomes almost a character in its own right, or at least a shadow that is always there, hanging over the story long before the death itself arrives.

The fractured structure is an obvious reflection of a fractured life, although some of the transitions are quick and jarring and the idea is occasionally pushed a little far. The show takes a while to find its rhythm, but it gradually builds a rapport with the audience as the memories become more personal.

The acting is in keeping with the dramatic style, though it is overacted in parts. Pullinger is an imposing performer, and there are moments where she seems to be working quite hard to make the connection with the audience, when the source material is already doing much of that work. I found myself wanting her to trust the writing a little more and let some of the emotion sit there without being sold. There is plenty in the story already.

The sound design is also good in parts, sometimes very good, though at points it overtakes Pullinger. Her voice alone does not need much help filling the tiny Summerhall basement, and the moments where the music simply sits behind her are more effective than those where it starts competing with her. The piece is at its best when it trusts what is already there.

Meteors by The CRAM Collective. Credit Daniel Marks.