and breathe...

Serenely paced and deeply thoughtful, and breathe... (the play’s title is styled in lower case) is a gentle meditation on grief, masculinity, and the cultural baggage that accompanies both. Written by Nigerian-British poet Yomi Sode, the introspective text takes the form of a sequence of dramatised prose poems, which unfold with a stately, cumulative power.

Centred on a family coming to terms with the imminent death of their formidable matriarch, the story follows Junior, quietly over-analysing his own raw emotions in contrast to the dignified yet stifled responses of his relatives. At times, the shame of showing weakness feels almost as strong as the pain of losing a loved one. But it’s guilt that has the most profound impact on Junior – guilt over not "being there" for his family, for the hardship his mother endured to provide for him and, perhaps most of all, for not being present as a role model for his younger cousin Ade. But even as he wrestles with his inner conflict Junior observes a world full of joy, hope, faith and meaningful struggle.

Focusing in on low-key, easily overlooked moments, Sode’s writing makes up in poignancy what it occasionally lacks in dramatic momentum. At one point, there’s a heartbreaking description of Junior’s mother opening a hospital window to hide her tears from her family. At another, Sode describes a phone ringing in his hand – bringing either hopeful or crushing news – as being like watching "a hatching bird".

David Jonsson plays Junior with great sensitivity, extrapolating a wealth of wit, wry humour, flashing anger and undisguised upset from the crisp text. His physicality also impresses as he shifts seamlessly between youthful swagger, eyes-down shyness and the regal yet slyly amused bearing of a respected elder.

Beside him, composer and musician Femi Temowo provides a counterpoint with an absorbing live soundtrack. His score blends together an eclectic range of instruments and influences, segueing between grooving guitars and yearning electronic drones, between a softly plinking kalimba and his own rich, resonant vocalisations. He interacts closely with Jonsson throughout, the two building a warm and respectful rapport that lightens the show in its heaviest moments.

Director Miranda Cromwell plays it all off with finesse, making sure both auditory and textual elements have space and time to breathe. Some lightly abstract movement work – all lithe turns and staccato gestures – add another stylish touch.

Meanwhile, Ravi Deepres’ video installations provide visual texture to the otherwise bare space. Against a wall of bricks, monochrome images depict natural forms in gradual, often rhythmically repetitive motion. Craggy cliffs rise endlessly upwards, a slow tide breaks on a shore and a human silhouette stands hand on heart, symbolic of the sincerity, vulnerability and inner resolve that underpins this moving piece.