An Instinct For Kindness

When the end comes, it comes with neither sentiment nor saccharine, but with snot, poison and a paperback novel in a blue-gray portakabin.

Last year, former London's Burning actor Chris Larner accompanied his ex-wife Allyson to the Swiss assisted-dying clinic, Dignitas. On November 9, she swallowed a cocktail of chemicals and died. She had suffered from Multiple Sclerosis for decades, and the last years of her life were spent in pain, housebound and in a wheel chair.

In the re-telling of this traumatic and controversial incident Larner has fashioned a humbling, moving one man show. Its power comes from its restraint. Larner is alone, bare feet, on stage. The only prop is a chair.

There is very little grandstanding or preaching on the ethics of euthanasia. The only words about the morality of her choice come from Allyson herself, whom Larner plays with an admiral lack of gloss. On God, or his non-existence, an aching Allyson says: “If I ever meet my maker I want my money back – faulty workmanship”.

The script is tight and lucid—his son comes into the world as a "miraculous wriggling aubergine"—and it is funny too. Without the frequent asides and humorous vignettes, Larner's tale would sink under its own sadness. It is a warm story, told with the honesty of a family member.

Quiet sobs pepper the audience. Those that resist are crushed with a final gesture of the hand at the curtain call. As Larner bows, he simply points to the empty chair. And darkness falls.