11 hours ago
Miss Myrtle's Garden
There's something relatable – and deeply funny – about a grandmother demanding to be brought potatoes and mixed spice, then grinning at her own audacity. That warmth and wit is central to Danny James King's Miss Myrtle's Garden, a tender play in which every cast member is as magnetic as the other.
The story does indeed unfold in the overgrown Peckham garden of Miss Myrtle (Diveen Henry) – a space dense with ghosts and flowers. Into this tangled setting steps her grandson Rudy (Michael Ahomka-Lindsay), who has just moved in with his (secret) boyfriend Jason (Elander Moore). Rudy, wary of his sharp-tongued Jamaican grandmother and constrained by his job at a Catholic school, isn't ready to come out, placing strain on them both. Moore's Jason is vibrant and warm; Ahomka-Lindsay captures Rudy's internal battle with a mounting heartbreak. Meanwhile,Henry's comic timing is electric, and her facial expressions alone tell stories that stretch across decades.
Myrtle is also slipping into dementia – a disease that disproportionately affects Black and South Asian communities. Her beloved cat, Sarah, is missing. She spends her days bickering with Eddie, her kind but slightly oafish Irish neighbour (a charming Gary Lilburn), whom she first catches urinating near her flowerbeds. What begins as comedy softens into a portrait of two lonely people reaching – awkwardly – for connection.
The actors orbit each other with care, often lingering in meaningful silences or glances. New Bush boss Taio Lawson's direction is intimate and dynamic, making smart use of the in-the-round staging. Khadija Raza's set is rich with detail – real soil, real flowers, and an ever-shifting wardrobe – while Joshua Gadsby's lighting brings a gentle rhythm: golden daybreaks, blackout nights, and the murky emotional in-betweens. After the interval, the balance between realism and symbolism sharpens. And while the pacing occasionally meanders, the play always manages to draw you back in.
What Miss Myrtle's Garden gets so right is the way it creeps up on you: one moment you're laughing, the next you're holding back tears. It's a play about the past, about what's left unsaid, and the quiet ache to be seen.
