Lavender, Hyacinth, Violet, Yew - Bush Theatre: A Stunning, Tender Exploration of Queer Identity, Grief, and Family

Image by Helen Murray

⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ - 92% • 2 minutes 36 second read time

Lavender, Hyacinth, Violet, Yew at the Bush Theatre is a darling of a play. Written by and starring Coral Wylie, this deeply personal and profoundly moving piece weaves together themes of trauma, family, queer history, and the ghosts - both literal and metaphorical - that shape us long before we even arrive. What makes it so special, though, is its warmth, its humour, and its deeply felt humanity.

At its heart is Pip (played with beautiful, raw honesty by Wylie), navigating the ever-complicated landscape of their relationship with their parents, as they discover their personal identity, while also being haunted - sometimes gently, sometimes painfully - by the presence of Duncan (the always-brilliant Omari Douglas), their parents’ best friend, who died of AIDS in the 90s. Duncan lingers in their lives, not just as a memory, but as something alive and present - a voice from the past that won’t be quiet, a person whose impact can still be felt in the spaces they once occupied. There’s something breathtakingly poignant in the way the play allows him to exist, not as a symbol or a tragic figure, but as someone vibrant and full of wit, still shaping the people left behind.

The chemistry between the cast is a delight. Wil Johnson is captivating as Craig, a father balancing grief, love, and the weight of his own past. His performance is wrapped in complexity - masculinity, Blackness, fatherhood, all held in a single breath, a single glance. Every moment he’s on stage is rich with an unspoken history, a lifetime of emotions simmering just beneath the surface. Pooky Quesnel’s Lorin is equally layered, bringing a deeply affecting mix of resilience and vulnerability to the role of Pip’s mother. The three of them together - Pip, Craig, Lorin - feel so completely, painfully, beautifully real. A family in all its messiness, its misunderstandings, its quiet devastations and its unspoken love.

What I enjoyed most, though, was the play’s exploration of perspective - of the arrogance of youth in believing they are the first ones to be progressive, the first to challenge, the first to break the rules. And then, that inevitable, crushing, wondrous moment when you realise that your parents were people before they were your parents. That they, too, had their rebellions, their heartbreaks, their revolutions. That they carry ghosts of their own. It’s a theme that unfolds so delicately, so naturally, and it lingers after the play ends.

The staging by Max Johns is simple but ingenious. There’s a fluidity to the movement, a seamlessness to the transitions, with hidden compartments and drawers revealing new spaces, new layers to the story. The minimal shifting of props is used to stunning effect, drawing us from one room to another with a kind of quiet magic that makes the entire piece feel like memory itself - fluid, non-linear, shifting between past and present with ease.

My only note would be that Act 1 feels too long, whilst Act 2 feels a lot shorter. If that balance can be found, this would be a no notes sort of play. There is something in it for everyone to relate to, because ultimately it’s about family and family history, and what it is that makes each of us who we are.  It creates an atmosphere - particularly in the final 15 minutes - that lingers in the mind, echoes of love, grief, and identity refusing to fade. Wylie’s writing is incredibly exciting from someone so young  - lyrical, sharp, and deeply human - I imagine we will see much more from them down the line. And I hope the same is true for this play.

Lavender, Hyacinth, Violet, Yew is playing at Bush Theatre until March 22nd. Tickets available here.