The Glad Game - Lace Market Theatre Review

★★★★★

The Glad Game is not simply a programming choice; it is an act of remembrance. Written and originally performed by Nottingham-born actor Phoebe Frances Brown, the piece chronicles her life following a diagnosis of an incurable brain tumour. To place such a personal, vulnerable story back on a Nottingham stage is a bold and delicate undertaking. In the hands of a debut director and a single performer, could this intimate tribute truly do justice to Phoebe’s voice?

Jen White as Phoebe Frances Brown in The Glad Game. Photo Credit: Kathryn Edwards.

The Glad Game takes its title from Pollyanna’s philosophy of finding something to be glad about in even the bleakest circumstances. We meet Phoebe at the height of her young acting career before headaches, hospital appointments and devastating news begin to fracture the life she had imagined. As the tumour gradually affects her speech and memory, she charts her journey through denial, anger, humour and, ultimately, a hard-won acceptance. It is a story of illness, yes, but also of friendship, family, ambition, silliness, and the stubborn insistence on joy in the face of the unthinkable.

There is always a question surrounding the revival of autobiographical work: can anyone other than the writer truly inhabit it? Jen White answers that question within moments of stepping on stage. Holding the audience alone for 75 minutes is no small feat, yet White does so with ease. She captures the frustration, self-awareness, and exasperation without tipping into sentimentality. Crucially, she avoids turning the play into either an exercise in emotional excess or a stand-up routine. Instead, she walks the tightrope between comedy and tragedy with control.

White’s comic instincts are razor sharp. In the gym class scenes and voice notes with her friends, she finds humour in the smallest moments of daily life. When she breaks out into a cringeworthy dance or impersonation of a chain-smoking Londoner, that is when White’s comedy really shines. Yet when the tone shifts, so does she. When Phoebe confronts what it means to lose the two skills that make her an actor, White strips everything back.

Director Kathryn Edwards, making her directorial debut, demonstrates remarkable assurance. This is not a show that can be imposed upon; it requires sensitivity and clarity of vision. The staging is deceptively simple at first: black boxes, a chair, a ladder, neatly arranged. As Phoebe’s world grows more complicated, the stage becomes cluttered with tinsel, clothes, confetti and an assortment of crisp packets! It is a brilliant visual metaphor for a life once ordered becoming increasingly chaotic.

David Billen’s lighting design is very effective. Isolating spotlights create moments of claustrophobia; warm washes open the space during scenes of celebration. A slow bloom of rainbow light in the closing moments, as Phoebe lists the things she is glad for, is a stroke of genius.

Jonathan Blacknell’s sound design is playful and textured, weaving in songs from Phoebe’s life and layered soundscapes that aim to externalise her internal world. However, the excellent intention was hidden by the fact that it was far too quiet. In the high-energy gym scene, the music should propel the action forward, yet it sits frustratingly low in the mix. Similarly, when heartbeats, machinery and babies crying aim to overwhelm the character, they SHOULD overwhelm her… audibly. 

At times, the play can feel episodic, as though it has reached its conclusion only to begin another chapter. Yet in many ways, this mirrors the lived reality. Each time Phoebe believes she has reached the end of her endurance, life continues, offering another anecdote, another setback, another reason to be glad. The uneven cadence becomes part of the story’s truth, part of the narrative brilliance. 

What makes this production exceptional is its refusal to reduce Phoebe to her diagnosis. We see her casting successes, her time at the Nottingham Television Workshop, her ambitions, her friendships, her irritations. The illness is central, but it does not define her. By the final moments, when archival footage reminds us of the real young woman at the play's heart, the tribute feels earned.

Reviving such a personal piece could have been risky, even intrusive. Instead, Lace Market Theatre has created something deeply respectful. Anchored by Jen White’s extraordinary performance and guided by Kathryn Edwards’ confident direction, The Glad Game is a heartfelt celebration of a life lived brightly, if far too briefly. If you have the chance to witness this production, take it. You will leave a little more inclined to play the glad game yourself.