Review: A TUPPERWARE OF ASHES, National Theatre

"The tempest in my mind doth from my senses take all feeling else, save what beats there. Filial ingratitude!" Queenie Mukherjee has always been the Bengali matriarch to end all Bengali matriarchs, except recently her children have started to notice the odd slip: a burnt pan here, a wrong date there. She can’t see anything wrong, but reluctantly attends a doctor’s appointment anyway - and the resulting diagnosis of early onset Alzheimer’s proves even harder for her to accept. Only hallucinations of her late husband, Ameet, can provide her with some comfort.

It has long been mooted that the titular character in Shakespeare’s King Lear has developed a form of dementia, so it is rather apt that Tanika Gupta weaves elements of this play together with a dash of the iconic Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore; the universality of both artists’ work coming together to give a voice to this British Asian family. The play’s exploration of identity is very moving, with Queenie struggling to hold on to hers - and her children (Raj, Gopal and Kamala) trying their best to make Bengali traditions work alongside their life in Britain.

Rosa Maggiora’s minimalist set design works well as a canvas for Matt Haskins’ lighting design, especially in moments where the stage is flooded with evocative blues and golds. In fact, it makes the production a more sensory experience all round, as the music (composed by Nitin Sawhney) and Elena Peña’s sound design complete the package - the latter’s ability to demonstrate Queenie’s increasing confusion and diminishing vitality is very powerful indeed.

There isn’t a lengthy setup to show Queenie’s character before the onset of Alzheimer’s, instead we get a glimpse of it in her more lucid moments, as well as via flashbacks to the early stages of her relationship with Ameet; this also ties into the fact that Alzheimer’s causes short-term memory loss, with more established memories coming to the forefront.

Casting someone of Meera Syal’s acclaim in the role also goes some way to quickly building Queenie’s legend - without saying a word, you can tell that she’s a formidable character. Syal is, quite simply, extraordinary. Once diagnosed, Queenie’s condition starts to deteriorate quite rapidly, which means there’s an incredibly complex set of emotions in play; to be able to quickly switch from guttural rage to tearful confusion to childlike enthusiasm is no mean feat, but Syal pulls it off expertly.

Raj Bajaj, Marc Elliott and Natalie Dew are excellent as the Mukherjee siblings; they are torn by their Bengali traditions (heightened by knowing their mother is isolated in a care home during the pandemic) as well as their everyday responsibilities and pressures, so much so that their own bond almost doesn’t survive. Zubin Varla provides some light relief as Ameet - always trying to tempt Queenie into an adventure - as does lifelong friend Indrani, a performance full of warmth from Shobna Gulati.

Although there are fewer new cases of dementia in the UK every year, it’s still the leading cause of death for both men and women - therefore it’s vital that it continues to be explored in art, as it helps to aid understanding for everyone involved. It’s also really fascinating to get a glimpse into Hindu death rituals (with accompanying modern-day red tape), as well as the ways in which religion or spirituality can provide much needed comfort. Pooja Ghai and Tanika Gupta make a fantastic creative team, and have once again come together to create a piece of work that is entertaining, informative, and affecting.

A Tupperware of Ashes is at The National Theatre until 16 November

Photo credits: Manuel Harlan

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