Written and Performed by Sinéad O’Brien

Often, the discussion of loved ones with mental illness sparks a sense of storytelling and catharsis. Less often, though, are tales about the act of caring for them, and the struggles we encounter. The pangs of guilt, the harsh realities. Even rarer is how much we love them and how crushing it can all be.

A love letter for her mother, but one she’ll never send, No One Is Coming is a humbling account of a daughter’s expressive experiences in dealing and living with her mother’s mental health issues. It’s defiantly without offence, possessing not a flicker of anything other than earnest intention. Told in the George Mackay Brown Library at the Scottish Storytelling Centre, the show has nothing to speak for its name, other than supremely talented storytelling. No gimmicks, no set pieces or costume changes, and only one use of a prop.

And, in some form of twisted way, the scale of the show is the strength. This isn’t so much a bold and echoing political rally-cry, as it is the tale of a woman and her Ma’. Not every verbatim piece will ignite and change the world, some are just about getting through the difficult times – and these pieces, like No One Is Coming resonate harder than any enormous drama could potentially manage. 

This is easily one of the most natural and fluid experiences of honest storytelling audiences may be fortunate to see – and it lies in the capable hands and integrity of Sinéad O’Brien.

The skill, amazement, intellect, and tone are all conveyed with microcosmic details in expression and voice: no gimmicks, no fluff, just pure aptitude. There’s an electric flow throughout O’Brien’s storytelling, almost synaptic in the speed and catapulting transitions as No One Is Coming threads from self-experience to the fae and mythological, as it encompasses a richness of Irish folklore. But these anecdotes, humorous or profound, all have merit and purpose. There isn’t a tale or thread within this tapestry which is out of place.

Fundamentally, No One Is Coming is darkly comical. It is steeped with an Irish sense of humour, after all. But it also paints all the colours of mental health across the board: the downs, the ups, the hilarious moments and the tragic. But no shade is given more standing than another, it’s crafted with intellect and measure, as well as a sublime sense of humour. O’Brien’s style has gorgeous rhythm, without a broken sentence or fumbled word – it’s mesmeric to watch, even as it traces from the humorous to the reflective, to the difficult and intimate.

Ignore the title: No One is Coming is the sort of show everyone should be going to see.