Remember Me. Ye Old Rose and Crown Theatre.

Most days, 14-year-old Stephy goes from school to visit her much-loved “Nana Penny” at the Sunnyside retirement home. The facility smells of “old people’s perfume, bin juice, and bleach” but Stephy brightens it up with adolescent exuberance and roses from the school garden. Penny has worsening dementia, “her mind is growing younger, like a car reversing” is how Stephy’s mum describes it. Stevie Rakelle’s semi-autobiographical one-woman show Remember Me explores the impact of Penny’s decline on those around her, particularly her granddaughter, through a blend of monologue, dialogue, and song. The piece, serious-minded and not an easy watch, reminds us there is sometimes a fine line between a performer playing a part and a human being recounting a real-life family tragedy.

Rakelle’s narrative is predominantly told from the perspective of sassy teenage Stephy, whose struggles to cope with the emotional car crash unfolding around her make the piece particularly redolent for a young adult audience. Finding a sustainable emotional connection with a 14-year-old may be challenging for those older, particularly as Rakelle’s teenager sometimes feels younger than her years. We also hear from Penny herself, whose paranoia, disintegrating memories, and incipient loss of identity emerge in harrowing detail. Moments of lucidity are punctuated by heartbreaking confusion. Intrusive, threatening pre-recorded voices from offstage and harsh spotlighting create a sense of Penny’s internal chaos.

The piece loses focus a tad when attention moves from the central grandmother/granddaughter relationship to others in the care home—Nana’s husband gets a look-in, as does her favourite nurse Raymond, an unsympathetic care home manager, and fellow dementia sufferers Viv and Bev. One supposes the rapid shifts in character perspective are designed to reflect the disjointed nature of dementia itself—scenes shift fluidly to blur the lines between reality and recollection. Rakelle mostly pulls off the character changes, but if there is a voice one yearns to hear from here it is the adult Stephy.

Periodic original songs mark the stages at which Nana’s dementia worsens. Rakelle’s melancholic, folksy voice and twanging guitar appeal, but the song lyrics can be challenging to make out, and opinions will vary on how much the musical interludes contribute to the storytelling. A tune about Humpty Dumpty, onstage throughout in the form of Stephy’s stuffed toy, feels somewhat too overtly metaphorical. Some welcome comic relief (in a show that lacks obvious light and shade) comes from a care home bingo session unfolding with predictably chaotic results.

Writer and Director:  Stevie Rakelle