Mum's Choir. Presented by The Court Theatre. 16 September – 6 October. Directed by Ross Gumbley. Reviewed by Sophie Ricketts, Backstage Christchurch.

Family. Sometimes you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.

Mum’s Choir opens on the loss of the O’Reilly matriarch, and we then follow the week leading up to her funeral. This is what I refer to as a “snapshot” play: we are flies on the wall watching a moment in time for an ordinary family. While some would argue that this lacks the sensationalism we come to expect from a lot of our entertainment, I found it heartening to be reminded of the ways in which family members can show up for each other (or piss each other off) when experiencing an emotional roller coaster as intense as grief.

This is the second production of the play I’ve seen, as partway into Act Two I suddenly realised I attended the Court’s 2005 staging. What struck me this time was that I was watching it having fully experienced a family funeral. Back in 2005 I hadn’t, and I think that's why I hadn’t remembered until we hit a specific scene. I had certainly experienced losses, but I had not yet felt the full weight of what it's like to experience the “family hurricane” involved in the planning and completion of a loved ones final rite of passage. 

When my grandfather died I recall being in a cloud of grief, and gratitude, slowly watching from the periphery as my father and his siblings banded together to support each other in their time of need. So much of Mum’s Choir pulled at my memories: the naming and claiming of items in the house, the jokes and jabs at each other as they recalled silly memories, the pain of facing the change of him no longer being there. For me, this play was on the nose about how we push and pull on our support network when someone close to us dies. Although I did find it hard to suspend my disbelief in the latter half of Act Two when we never saw the spouses and children of the play’s characters, it was heartwarming to let the story focus on Molly’s five children, her sister and her eldest grandchild. 

The casting was sensational and special mention must go to the collaborative effort of the ensemble to create the varied and believable sibling dynamic amongst themselves. It was clear almost immediately who was used to being in charge of decisions, and who avoids them; as well as who is treated like the baby of the family, as opposed to who is actually the youngest.

But the music deserves a special mention all of its own. It was as much of a plot device as the dialogue and it was great fun hearing the songs pour out in almost every scene. Some of them were completely unknown to me, while others brought their own special meaning to the fore. Assembling such a strong collective of actors who are also gifted singers made all the difference as even the unknown songs were a pleasure to enjoy. Hearing Eilish Moran sing Every Time We Say Goodbye was my absolute favourite, both for its stillness and emotional depth as much as her beautiful tone. Matthew Everingham is to be congratulated on his work as musical director.

During the interval, it dawned on me that it was the one year anniversary of the death of a good friend of mine. It seemed fitting to be enjoying my own happy recollections of a loved one simultaneously with the characters of the show, and as a result gave me a deeper appreciation for the subtlety of the action. As such, I think this play is like an empty vessel which can be filled with the emotional responses of all those who see it. As a result, the experience will be unique for each of us - some flooded with sad nostalgia, and others uplifted with happy memories. Probably what “mum” would have wanted, eh?