The Inevitable Heartbreak of Gavin Plimsole

Within the opening minutes of The Inevitable Heartbreak of Gavin Plimsole, one joke has been, unknowingly or otherwise, lifted almost verbatim from Terry Pratchett, while another is borrowed from an old Bugs Bunny cartoon. It's an unfortunate start to such a bold, personal and often deeply amusing exploration of feelings, both physical and emotional, but one that is quickly overcome.

Strapping your audience to heart monitors is perhaps not the best way to win them over, but Gavin himself, a toymaker unexpectedly diagnosed with a rare heart defect that launches him into considerations of mortality for which he is completely unprepared, gets back into their good graces almost immediately. The ever-present projection of the crowd's heart-rates— displayed on a magnificently realised pull-apart garden shed containing a delightfully over-complex mechanism—may be a gimmick, but it's also a diverting piece of symbolism that acts as a creative backdrop to the unfolding human comedy.

While Gavin's life, the possibility of his death and his tangled romantic history occupy the bulk of the narrative, props should go to the endless energy and multifaceted acting talents of his two nameless, bodysuited accomplices. They fill all the other roles—Gavin's ex-girlfriend, appearing only in memories, is given a particularly layered and graceful performance—disassemble and reassemble the set wherever necessary, and provide a much-needed counterpoint to the often bombastic, performatively vulnerable protagonist. The Inevitable Heartbreak of Gavin Plimsole may be somewhat disjointed, but it remains an oddly sweet, hugely imaginative and endearingly honest show.