Young Critics Collective: Mother.Dad

Written by Doug Deans and produced by Chronic Insanity, Mother.Dad. offers a unique
perspective on parenthood, exploring how turbulent emotions can underscore parental
experience. Performed by only two actors, sequential monologues create seemingly
unconnected stories side by side, each presenting a very different life – that of single,
working class mother, and married, middle class father. Despite remaining nameless, the
‘her’ and ‘him’ characters emotionally resonate with audiences, as they portray moments of
struggle and joy recognisable to many parents.

Prior to the show beginning, parental testimonies were displayed upon a projector screen
behind the stage. This integration of real parent’s voices into the show, create an intimate
reality, the variety of perspectives reflecting a quintessential part of the show – the
understanding that parenthood can be experienced in very different ways.

The stage itself was simplistic, this working effectively to create an empty space for these
stories to be told, a space which the two performers effortlessly brought to life. Both cast
members were able to convey believable relationships within their respective stories,
causing the audience to become emotionally invested in their life with other characters that
remained unseen. This was done most effectively by the small moments described, for
example, the act of holding hands, whether with a partner or child, became a poignant
image in both ‘his’ and ‘her’ story. The emotional impact of the piece benefitted from being
staged in the more intimate setting of the smaller performance studio rather than the main
stage of Lakeside Arts, as audiences were closely exposed to the various emotions expertly
portrayed by the cast.

One impressive aspect of Mother.Dad. is how the writing manages to express the complex
emotions of mother and fatherhood, whilst still finding time for moments of humour and
relatability. The ‘her’ character is notably weighed down by the loss of what she could have
achieved, the extent of her resentment emphasised by the heartbreaking moment where
she admits to imagining life without her daughter. However, amusing interjections in her
own monologues, such as commenting on a car being worth more than her house, create
humour throughout. Similarly, the ‘him’ character is vexed by his anxieties about
fatherhood, a tendency for his thoughts to spiral conveyed by the actor accelerating his
dialogue before snapping out of it. Yet, relatable tales of children’s behaviour and one of
how biology can interrupt spooning with your partner, maintains the humour. Significantly,
both ‘his’ and ‘her’ story showcase how it is their unique perspectives and observations that
give lightness to the heavy moments. Consequently, I believe this production particularly
excels in voicing, and creating the space for, emotions associated with parenthood, without
any shame or blame being attributed to those feeling them.

In a post-show discussion, Deans mentioned how he wanted audiences to feel like they have
led a whole life with ‘her’. Thus, ‘her’ story starts in her teenage years, and audiences are
privy to both her and her daughter growing up. In contrast, ‘his’ story takes place over just a
couple of days, yet the time difference is inconsequential to audiences’ emotional
investment. The dichotomy of the two stories, how they start in two very different stages of
life, presents separate worlds seemingly unconnected. As such, when their stories do finally
collide, and the two actors are at last onstage together, their shared moment of recognition
is a shocking discovery. Suddenly our characters’ lives are intwined, what we thought has
been upended, and this, combined with the ambiguity of the ending, leads to an impactful
and memorable show about the complexities of being a mother or dad.

A tender, beautifully crafted story that captures the complexities of parenthood with rare care and
honesty. Mother.Dad, written by Doug Deans, is a perfect example of why grounded, immersive storytelling feels so vital in today’s climate. The audience’s response alone speaks volumes: they connected deeply with its relatability, its emotional precision, and its intricately threaded humour.
In the post-show discussion, this connection became even clearer. Audience members were eager to ask questions about the production, the plot, and the writing, reflecting on the moments that resonated with them and unpacking what had unfolded on stage. Their engagement was thoughtful
and enthusiastic, a testament to the production’s gripping, quietly powerful nature.

What struck me most about the performance was the sheer quality of its storytelling. It was in the small moments, the intricate details, that the writing revealed its intelligence, guiding the plot forward with effortless precision. One moment in particular stood out: the mother’s reflection on stopping a life from ever enjoying the taste of a mango if she chose to have an abortion, followed later by the quiet image she describes of her daughter sitting and eating mango. These carefully planted echoes create a narrative in which nothing is accidental. Every line, every gesture carries meaning, threads the audience can follow, interpret, and carry with them long after the performance ends. It’s the kind of storytelling that invites you to sit with it, to turn it over in your mind, to gnaw at its layers and discover something new each time you return to it.

Another striking element of the performance was its use of two unnamed characters. Their anonymity felt purposeful; it allowed them to command the intimate space and guide us through their lives using nothing but their voices and bodies. The production’s integration of physical theatre was especially
effective, punctuating key moments with vivid, embodied storytelling. Whether it was the father walking as though his small child clung to his leg, or the mother forcefully rocking her body to re-enact the act of giving birth, these physical choices enriched the narrative. They show how dialogue and movement can work in seamless partnership, each amplifying the other to create a performance that feels both grounded and deeply expressive.

In the end, Mother.Dad stands as a quietly powerful piece of theatre, one that lingers. Through its
attentive writing, intimate performances, and thoughtful use of physical storytelling, it offers an
experience that feels both deeply personal and universally recognisable. It’s a production that
doesn’t just tell a story, but invites you to live within it for a while, and to carry its echoes with
you long after you leave the space.