Soap. An expensively wrapped cake of English Rose soap, French-triple-milled, whatever that means, but wtf is it doing in my hot little hand, as I dash along the garden path to the Globe Theatre? Clearly I am losing it. Not a cheerful thought, when the play, Bothered and Bewildered, is to deal with the sensitive subject of dementia. 

Playwright Gail Young, who hails from the North-West of England, has a powerful social conscience and a penchant for worthy causes. Her first play, Cheshire Cats, concerned a group of friends on a fundraiser walk for breast cancer, Head Over Heels looks at the devastating effects of late-life divorce, and this one, first produced in 2014, has been used to raise money for the Alzheimer’s Society. 

There is no cause for alarm – Young’s style is pragmatic and ultimately optimistic rather than grim. Having watched in agony as characters from Blanche Dubois to Firpo are forcibly incarcerated, I am anxious to advise (spoiler alert!) that we will not have to endure that particular trauma tonight – the ending is surprisingly sweet.

Naturally everyone will respond differently, depending on their experience of dementia, but I found Bothered and Bewildered the reverse of depressing. It is billed, with justice, as a comedy-drama, for there is plenty of laughter along with the inescapable heartbreak of watching beloved mother Irene succumb to Alzheimer’s. There is comfort too, in witnessing others sharing our own journey, especially when fictional characters are as authentic as these. 

As her confusion grows, Irene’s two daughters are determined she should not go into residence, sharing the tasks of caring for her but gradually recognising telltale signs of incompetence, the burnt pans, the refusal to eat a healthy diet, the teddy treated as a baby. I am reminded of Miss Helen’s burnt curtains in The Road to Mecca, and of all the heart-breaking details revealed in wonderful local verbatim work, The Keys are in the Margarine.

Refreshingly there are no villains here – Irene, her daughters and grand-daughter are easy to identify with, all likeable, all struggling to do the right thing. Even the National Health consultant, though male, is quietly sympathetic and helpful.  But it is women who bear most of the responsibility for the care of the elderly, and the female-centric tone of the play is cosily appropriate. Think of the four generations of women in Wednesday to Come, with Granna sitting by the fire, recording the trivial domestic details of the day. 

Young gives a not-uncommon coup de theatre, the Imaginary Friend, a very cute twist – Irene adores romantic fiction, and her imaginary friend is none other than that ultra-feminine queen of mushy romances, Barbara Cartland. Although hilariously deploring the lack of a dashing plot and suitably virginal heroines, she encourages Irene in writing her own ‘memory book’, and as her real family fades, Irene shares with Barbara secrets she has withheld from them.

With my mystery luxury soap cunningly concealed in my shoulder bag, I watch sympathetically Irene’s inevitable descent into panicky confusion. From the very start this audience has been totally engaged, with audible gasps and groans as well as laughter, the odd “Oh dear!” and almost palpable waves of empathetic pity for each of the characters. The themes of Bothered and Bewildered resonate strongly – maternity, memory, love and loss, and the harsh expectations for women in every age, the secrets and forced lies society demands, are all canvassed.

Although the Globe is currently in ‘refresh’ mode, with youthful members lending vitality to the committee and new faces on stage, the cast revolves around beloved Globe veteran, Kay Masters, in the pivotal role of Irene. Masters rises beautifully to the challenge, endowing Irene with warmth and a slightly naughty charm – even when she is being difficult (watch out for the scrambled egg!) we can see how frightened she is, and our hearts go out to her.

It is always a pleasure to watch versatile Laura Wells, and as elder married daughter Beth, the strong decisive one that Irene begins to see as Granny, she is utterly convincing. We sense the frustration she keeps in check, and feel for her when her daughter judges her. The close, supportive relationship between the sisters is one of the most endearing aspects of the production, poignant and truly touching, despite the odd spat.

Kelly Phillips is wonderfully tender as unmarried sister Louise, who unselfishly takes Irene into her own home when it becomes apparent she cannot live alone. We admire (possibly envy!) Louise’s patience under the little hurts from her mum, so when her niece offers some respite care we rejoice for her, dressed up elegantly for an evening of freedom to a burst of Lady Gaga!

Newcomer Laura Whelan makes an engaging grand-daughter, Shelley, supposedly the image of her grandmother when young. She shares a charmingly intimate scene with Irene in which she gives her grandmother a pamper evening, pink nail polish, face mask and all. Whelan also doubles successfully as Irene’s carefree younger self, dancing with her boyfriend Jim before he is sent away to war. 

Alison Ayers looks magnificent as Barbara Cartland, clad in shocking pink frills and absurd fascinator, with false eyelashes and blond curls. Although lacking some of the absolute self-assurance that characterised Cartland, Ayers delivers the nonsensical notions about virgins, face creams, manly men and vitamins with vigour, and the audience’s delighted response should build her confidence as the season progresses. 

The two men in the cast competently double their roles, Prior McRae first as lovely boyfriend Jim, later as a surprise arrival on Irene’s doorstep. Sol Doran is both an amusingly kind police officer, and the softly-spoken health professional for the NHS, a role that is perhaps a shade underwritten – I for one would like to have seen his reaction to Irene’s memory book!

Lorraine Johnston has been an indispensable Globe stalwart for many years, but this is her directorial debut. Wisely she has taken a quietly sincere and low-key approach, without losing any of the drama or humour. There is an easy rapport between actors, and it seems clear this has been a happy production. Scenes flow smoothly on a minimal set, the occasional flagging in pace on opening night sure to quicken. The rhythms of the script beg for Young’s Northern English accent which is satisfactorily delivered.

The set design (also by Johnston) has shrewdly been kept simple, the space fluid: stage right the NHS office where the sisters give their regular updates to a sympathetic doctor, and stage left Irene’s living room, subtly altered to daughter Louise’s home for the second act. The central space is free to indicate the outdoors, or flashbacks to Louise’s youth, with the help of artful lighting design by Cody McRae and sound by Craig Storey.

Sound is particularly significant, as we enter Irene’s muddled mind (think Hopkins in movie The Father) to hear ominous knocking, a baby’s desperate crying, and the maddening singing of songs from the past, Abide with Me or I’ll be Seeing You, so it is pleasing to note the technical team is well up to the mark, cues spot-on.

However, the chief factor in the success of the play is the sincerity and honesty of Johnston’s cast, eliciting a strong sense of recognition in the audience. Few of us have not encountered the misery of age-related dementia in those we love, and feared it for ourselves. This cast manage to bring out all possible humour while not treating the subject matter lightly – no inconsiderable achievement. The patrons actually appear to leave on a high, enthusing over such an entertaining performance on such a serious subject.

But I am still suspiciously pondering the Mystery of The English Rose Soap.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer