Review: JOSHUA (AND ME), The Hope Theatre

Hannah is the youngest of three siblings. There's Joshua, Ben, and then herself. From the day she was born, she was taught to behave differently with them because Joshua is autistic. We meet Hannah (Rachel Hammond) when she is seven years old and follow her through her uncharacteristic adolescence. Armed with a looping machine and exceptional perceptiveness, Hammond delivers a sincerely bittersweet play directed by Lucy Jane Atkinson about what it feels like living with a person with autism. It's definitely not all fun and games.

A tired mum who does her best negotiating the needs of all her children isn't enough to make Hannah feel seen by her family. She mostly lives at her grandad's with Ben - who struggles with Joshua even more than herself - so her mum feels "less stressy". They both know they come second after their older brother. But these feelings of alienation and invisibility in the eyes of their parents conflict to come out in Joshua (and Me).

We learn of Hannah's disappointment at Joshua's overshadowing every moment of her life, but we don't see her dealing with it. We watch her gaslight herself so her mum (and her own self) feel bad about needing time alone with her. Hannah puts on a brave face for more than a decade, but we never get a real breaking point.

She only shares her frustration with Ben, who listens and helps her in his own way, but who's ultimately in the same estranged position and copes in different ways with having every milestone eclipsed by Joshua's inability to reach the same. Hammond's prose is intense in its simplicity as she retells details inspired by her own experience with her own autistic brother Joseph.

The play, however, remains crystallised in a limbo as she attempts to balance her story between trying not to invalidate Joshua's struggle and wanting to express her own. Only at the very end of the piece, her character Hannah brings up the colossal worry that is the power of attorney they all had to sign once they turned 18 and how nobody ever wanted to discuss it with her. Ben thinks of it as something that will only happen if their parents die, but she sees it as an inevitable path.

By briefly sharing how the responsibilities that surround Joshua have dominated and dictated her whole life, she gives the audience a glimpse of what the project truly wants to be. In the programme notes, Hammond explains how she feared that discussing her neurotypical point of view would be seen as too self-centred and would somehow lessen her brother's.

The production is positive, heartfelt, and filled to the brim with music. It's a rare angle to have, and Hammond gives a warm performance rooted in acceptance and designed to welcome neurodivergent needs. Every show is relaxed. Ear defenders are available at the box office and the seats closer to the door are reserved for patrons who might want to have an easy escape. A sheet with all the cues and a detailed synopsis is also available.

This play is, thematically, a great start on many levels, but it can be taken a step further.
Joshua (and Me) runs at The Hope Theatre until 19 February.

Photo credit: Lidia Crisafulli

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