Tell My Everything delivers a moving portrayal of grief, heightened by feelings of separation and displacement, as a young woman comes to terms with the death of her grandparents.Rating
Good
Lanzhou (Shanshan Wu) sits centre stage and addresses a voice in the distance. She is in a counselling session and the initial thread of frustration under discussion is that of her boyfriend. They appear ill-suited as a couple, particularly culturally. Lanzhou is Chinese, in her early thirties, living and working in London. The counsellor presses her for introspection, in the way that counsellors do, and a grief and longing unfold for her grandparents back in China alongside the safety of their apartment, which had been a haven for Lanzhou at a vulnerable time in her life.
What follows is a rather lovely and poignant unfolding of loss and feelings of displacement, exacerbated by the reality of not being able to say goodbye to the pair following their death (due to the pandemic). The subsequent refurbishment of the apartment adds to Lanzhou’s grief as it removes any trace of their personality. The removal of the physical landline, for example, accentuates the loss of a communication ritual.
The staging works well: much of the action takes place front and centre as expected with décor suited to an office easily removed as needed when Lanzhou stands centre stage to begin her internal journey. The lighting is particularly nuanced throughout, and a rather moving shadow play adds an extra dimension.
Interestingly, writer Yuhe Tian is a London-based drama therapist and has chosen to situate the entirety of the play within a therapy session based on lived experience. The therapist is only ever a voice, delivered with technical prowess. I was only aware of the actor (FJ) playing the role as I’d seen them at the back when entering the theatre: the experience delivered suggests a distant, almost ethereal sage. There is a second person on stage (Shiwei Chen), seated at the back, facing away from the audience. She represents the narrator, initially observing, but over the course of the session, she moves closer before becoming as much a part of the action as Lanzhou. Unfortunately, this is not obvious, and whilst intriguing, it was a little confusing. I like the concept though, but there needs to be a way of explaining it.
There was also a slight technical hitch: most of the play is delivered in English other than scenes involving Lanzhou’s grandparents, which are subtitled. Unfortunately, the action took place on the same side of the stage where the subtitles were shown so they were only partially visible. That is easily remedied.
The trajectory of the story is well drawn: boyfriend issues become daddy issues, which lead neatly into the real reason for her sadness: a process enabled by the construct of therapy which gradually peels layers of introspection away to reach the core of the issue. I suspect the closeness of a child to their grandparents may be particularly relevant to certain cultures, such as the Chinese, but the gentle exploration of grief is universally applicable. Scenes where Lanzhou’s routines with her grandparents are replayed and the emotional significance explained are particularly poignant.
The inability of Lanzhou to attend the funeral is significant as she is denied the physical acknowledgement of the death and the ritual in which grief can be shared with family and friends. Setting this within the confines of a therapy session provides a resolution for her sense of ostracism and the unfinished nature of her grief.
Written and producer by Yuhe Tian
Directed by Libby Yunqian Lyu
Dramaturg by: Libby Yunqian Lyu
Assistant Producer: Haoming Li, Elaine Li Quan
Stage Manager: Maiheliya Abulimiti
Set Design by Naomi (Ruizhi) Zhang
Lighting Design by Tracy Xiaoyu Hua
Costume Design by Jieming Lan
Movement Director: Yumeng Hu
Tell Me Everything has completed its run at this year’s Camden Fringe.



