by Laura Kressly

As the population ages and continues to be threatened by underfunding and lack of adequate resources, quality care for elderly people is under threat. The acclaimed Irish play Lost Lear by Dan Colley challenges this by providing a narrative of hope. Safely tucked away in a care home, Joy (Venetia Bowe) re-lives the best moments of her life over and over again. Her care team have recreated the rehearsal process for her acclaimed turn in King Lear, which keeps her calm and content as dementia ravages her brain. Joy’s experience is both tragically beautiful and inspirational – may we all have this depth of experience as our minds slip below the horizon.

Yet, all stories must have multiple sides so this is a play of two halves. Joy’s estranged son’s arrival, and his aim to air his grievances, threatens to upend her delicate existence and reveals a darker side to these memories. Her glory and success overshadows the pain and loneliness of Conor’s younger self who longed for a mum constantly away for work. His attempts to reach Joy, and her varied and unpredictable reactions, are a devastating meditation on aging, balancing a career and parenting, and reconciling with a neglectful and narcissistic parent.

Dramaturgically, Colley’s use of Lear is multi-layered and intelligent. Joy’s inability to communicate outside of her memories crashes against Conor’s need to engage with her through the prism of his childhood experiences. Thus, the storm scene in Lear and the dying King’s reconciliation with his estranged daughter are powerful motifs deftly woven across the multiple levels of reality at work in the play. This is highly sophisticated and smart theatre that boldly deals part of the core of the human condition.

The themes of storms and familial conflict also drive action in Consumed. In Karis Kelly’s new play set it Northern Ireland, thunder ominously rumbles outside of a family home where four generations of women converge out of obligation. It’s a 90th birthday party for Eileen (Julia Dearden), thrown by her daughter Jenny (Andrea Irvine), and attended by her London-dwelling granddaughter Gilly (Caoimhe Farren) and great-granddaughter Muireann (Muireann Ní Fhaogáin).

Each of the four women embody stereotypes of their respective generation, which is both quite amusing in their recognisability and wearing in their predictability. Of course, Eileen is blunt and offensive and looks down her nose at how soft her descendants are. Of course, Jenny is pulled together and obsessed with her family’s reputation and keeping up appearances. Of course, Gilly lives a high-flying life in London, and of course teenager Muireann is politically progressive and anxious about the state of the world. When these personalities are combined with a heavy dose of Northern Irish banter and religious politics, tension is rife even if reliant on cliches.

However, much of this emerges as one-line barbs. Whilst funny – and often bitingly so – it doesn’t do much to significantly progress the action until the very end. Whilst this kind of fast-paced, snarky dialogue can prompt questions about what’s going to happen next, it also gets a little stagnant. Fortunately, there is a climax to both the storm outside and in, when Gilly makes a horrific discovery. This pay off forces each character to begin to confront uncomfortable truths about themselves, their family and why things are the way they are. Though satisfying, it is an under-explored and rushed attempt to comment on intergenerational trauma and identity.

Intergenerational concerns and familial legacy are also a significant part of The Beautiful Future is Coming by Flora Wilson Brown. And yes, this play also has a literal storm and plenty of metaphorical ones what with its focus on climate change. Three pairs of characters in their own timelines each balance fears for the future with hope.

It is 1856 in New York and Eunice is a brilliant scientist whose talents go unrecognised because she is a woman, but in her home lab she has made a startling discovery about carbon’s effect on temperature.

It is 2027 in London and Claire is falling in love with her coworker Dan during a record breaking heatwave. They dream of countryside living and having a big family.

It is 2100 in Svalbard’s seed vault, and Ana and Malcolm are waiting for the months-long storm to end so they can go back home. Ana is pregnant.

Each of these stories unfold in isolation along a linear trajectory. Writer Flora Wilson Brown keeps them contained; they do not break out from their own narratives and the characters do not interact across time or place. Their connection is purely thematic, which though it emphasises how thinking about climate change and its impacts have evolved, does little else. There’s a sense that each of these stories could be plays in their own right, but perhaps not full length. Cynically, positioning them as a triptych essentially forces a full-length play into existence.

That said, each plot line is interesting enough to stand on its own and the performances are universally strong across the cast of six. It also navigates climate change in a more nuanced way. It’s not all doomerism what with each thread also stubbornly imagining a world that could be better, much like Lost Lear does with elder care.

The Traverse Theatre fringe programme runs through 24 August.