
Jackie Madejski as the Narrator. Photo courtesy of Workhouse Arts Center.
Workhouse Arts Center’s production of Duncan Macmillan and Jonny Donahoe’s “Every Brilliant Thing” was not at all what I was expecting—it was so much more. Developed as part solo piece and part improv, the play tells the story of a child who must cope with a mother suffering from severe depression, so severe that the mother attempts suicide—more than once. This is ultimately not a play about the hopelessness and isolation that would lead one to such extreme measures. Rather, it is about those on the outside looking in, trying to understand what the world must be like for someone so desperate. And then what exactly do you do with that knowledge—if you can figure out a way to fathom it at all?
…so wonderfully captivating…Madejski completely inhabits this part…She keeps audiences right there with her, every step of the way.
Workhouse’s production rotates between two different narrators—Danny Seal and Jackie Madejski (who performed the narrator role in the version I saw). “Every Brilliant Thing” is built around the premise of a list that the narrator is creating. This list serves as a lifeline, a reminder that during the bad there is always some good—a potential anchor for their mother the next time the sadness overtakes her. The list is composed of all of the things that make life worth living: ice cream, certain songs, red wine, and even more obscure things like all of the even-numbered Star Trek films. Perhaps what makes this list so compelling and also so memorable is that many of the items are read by audience members.
Madejski passes out scraps of paper containing the list items as theatregoers enter and take their seats. She informs (or perhaps warns) that this show is very audience-inclusive as she hands you your lines. I also had the opportunity to play a part during the performance as did several other audience members. The director, actors, and producer explained during the talkback that the play is very much a product of how the audience participates—hence the improv aspect of it. Certain performances and certain responses could easily lend themselves to a fairly different theatrical outcome than they’d had the night before. It is this immersive unknown that makes this show so wonderfully captivating.
We see the narrator’s entire life trajectory as framed by the tragic story of her mother. Beginning as a small child who gets consoled by a school counselor’s sock puppet, it moves to a young college-aged woman discovering love in the library stacks, and then to an embattled thirty-something bearing the scars of all those years of not knowing when it might happen next. The list keeps her going. The list also becomes her nemesis at points, a reminder that maybe she can’t save her mother after all.
Madejski completely inhabits this part. I barely remembered that she was an actor on a stage—the highest praise I can give. She moves so easily through the emotional highs and lows of this character. One moment she’s dancing to her mom’s favorite record and the next, she’s screaming at the world wondering how much more a person can possibly take. She keeps audiences right there with her, every step of the way.
Director Sarah Byrons seemingly unleashes Madejski, giving the actor plenty of space (stage and house) to move, dance, rant, and get it all off her chest. There’s a palpable symbiotic energy at play—between actor and audience, between the space and the people in it, between the narrator and the director—largely, I assume, thanks to Byrons’ insightful choices.
This is one that will likely surprise you—in the best possible way. Although the subject matter and many of the emotions embodied here are indeed heavy, you leave (at least I did) with an increased sense of the lightness of being that ultimately exists within.
Running Time: Approximately one hour and 20 minutes with no intermission.
Advisory: Contains discussions of depression and suicide.
“Every Brilliant Thing” runs through April 14, 2024 at Workhouse Arts Center, 9518 Workhouse Way, Lorton, VA 22079. For more information and to purchase tickets, go online.








