Grief is a strange beast, isn't it? It morphs, it lingers, it divides. This is the core of what I found so compelling about Poison, a play currently running at Dublin's Project Arts Centre. On the surface, it's a story of two parents reunited at their son's grave, ten years after his death. But scratch beneath the surface, and you'll find a raw exploration of how grief fractures relationships, and how the very act of mourning can become a weapon.
Let's be clear, this isn't a play about a son's death. It's about the aftermath, the emotional fallout that lingers long after the funeral. What makes this particularly fascinating is how the playwright, Lot Vekemans, chooses to focus not on the tragedy itself, but on the messy, often ugly ways people cope – or fail to cope – with loss. The unnamed couple, 'He' and 'She', are a study in contrasts. She, still mired in grief, accuses He of abandoning her, of moving on too quickly. He, remarried and seemingly rebuilt, accuses her of wallowing, of making grief her identity. Personally, I think this dynamic is where the play truly shines. It's not about who's right or wrong, but about the impossibility of grieving 'correctly'. One thing that immediately stands out is the way grief becomes a battleground. She uses her pain as a weapon, guilt-tripping He for his perceived emotional distance. He, in turn, retreats into a cold logic, accusing her of using grief as a crutch. What many people don't realize is how often grief becomes a power struggle. It's not just about missing the deceased, it's about who gets to define the narrative of loss, who gets to control the memory. The play hints at a deeper narcissism at play, a need for both characters to be seen as the 'rightful' griever. This raises a deeper question: can we ever truly share grief, or is it inherently a solitary experience? The production itself is a mixed bag. The performances are strong, particularly Rachel O’Byrne's portrayal of She, who manages to be both heartbreaking and infuriating. However, the set design feels oddly detached, with its spa-like wood panelling and harsh fluorescent lighting. It creates a sense of unease, but not necessarily in a way that serves the emotional core of the play. The Irish setting also feels somewhat jarring, especially with the lingering references to Normandy and the awkward French pronunciation. It's a detail that I find especially interesting – the play seems to be struggling with its own identity, much like its characters. What this really suggests is that Poison is a play that's still finding its footing. It has moments of profound insight, but it's also hampered by underdeveloped characters and a somewhat muddled production design. In my opinion, the play's strength lies in its willingness to confront the ugliness of grief. It doesn't offer easy answers or tidy resolutions. Instead, it leaves you with a sense of unease, a recognition of the messy, often destructive ways we deal with loss. If you take a step back and think about it, that's perhaps the most honest portrayal of grief we can ask for.
