Content Forecast: This review has mentions of grief. There are also minor spoilers.
Words by: Angela Pelham (she/her)
The Lochburn family have moved into Circa Theatre from the 5th of October to the 2nd of November, filling the stage with family drama, nostalgia, and lots of music. and the Lochburns, by married couple William Duignan and Andrew Paterson—playwright and director, respectively—presents an authentic depiction of a family moving through grief and change (with an ensemble cast of talented actor-musicians).
I’ll admit that this play didn’t fully resonate with me—not due to any fault of the script or performances, but because the family dynamics simply didn’t reflect my own experiences and left me feeling like a bit of an outsider. That said, I fully recognize the talent of the cast and crew, the cleverness of the script, and the emotional range that had the audience both laughing and crying at times. Also, my viewing companion found the family dynamics extremely relatable, even to the point of being uncanny at times.
At the heart of and the Lochburns is the slow revelation of a simple yet poignant premise: Margaret, the Lochburn matriarch, has passed away some time ago, and her husband Gus is now succumbing to his long-term dementia. His three adult children, along with one partner, have gathered at their childhood home to confront the emotional weight of the past as they prepare to move their father into a care facility and pack up his home. While not much physical packing occurs on stage, it’s easy to forgive, given the amount of emotional unpacking the characters must do. Memories of the past are seamlessly and cleverly woven into the present action, allowing the audience to experience the past as it exists in the characters’ minds. The Lochburns are a family of both lovers and fighters, perfectly capturing the complex balance of loyalty and tension that defines so many family dynamics.
"and the Lochburns explores family, memory, and the passage of time with tenderness and authenticity."
Kali Kopae's portrayal of Margaret, the late mother, is a standout. Kopae transitions beautifully between past and present, embodying both the warmth of a loving mother and wife, and a ghostly presence that lingers in her family's hearts. Her renditions of songs like "You Belong to Me" and "A House is Not a Home" are beautifully sung, accompanied on the piano by Peter Hambleton (Gus). Kopae’s voice and stage presence are captivating, holding attention even when her character isn’t actively ‘present’ in the scene. For those familiar with the pain of loss, her performance will strike particularly deep chords.
Stella Reid’s performance as Helena, the youngest Lochburn sibling, provides much of the play's energy. Her contrasting chemistry with her siblings and her soon-to-be brother-in-law is remarkable, adding depth and relatability to the family dynamics. Spanning from carefree and impulsive to reflective, Reid’s performance anchors the audience in both the humour and heartache of the story. Equally compelling are the moments between Simon Leary’s Jason and Jthan Morgan’s Sam, where the tender and often insecure dynamics of their relationship are delicately explored. Sam, an outsider to the family, navigates the Lochburns’ intensity with warmth and vulnerability. Hannah Kelly’s Mary clashes with many of the other characters, but we learn that her bossy personality is a blanket hiding her emotional vulnerability. The scene where she explores her similarities to her Dad is particularly memorable.
The play's structure, which frequently moves between past and present, is cleverly done, though occasionally disorienting. There are, however, moments where the tone shifts unexpectedly. While the realism of the script and the production design grounds the story in a relatable family drama, some sequences veer into jarring melodrama. A full-blown musical jazz number toward the end of Act I, while lots of fun, felt somewhat out of place. Greater continuity in tone might have lent more cohesion to the play.
The play’s sound design, unfortunately, presented some challenges. While the music and songs were beautifully woven into the production, the dialogue often suffered due to inconsistent projection or unclear direction choices. Overlapping dialogue added realism but, at times, obscured key plot points, making it difficult to follow the action and leaving me hearing nothing but noise. This was particularly noticeable during two major argument scenes, where underscoring with live song made important emotional exchanges nearly unintelligible. These sound issues detracted from an otherwise strong production and left some crucial moments feeling less impactful. The lighting and production design, however, were able to uplift the production. One of the most memorable moments is the first shift into the past, where the lighting design beautifully signals the change in time. The production design by Meg Rollandi, with its well-lived-in family living room—complete with records, knick-knacks, and seven working lamps (big shoutout to practical lighting!)—perfectly complements this nostalgic atmosphere.
and the Lochburns explores family, memory, and the passage of time with tenderness and authenticity. Its exploration of sibling relationships, parent-child dynamics, and the insecurities that arise in moments of change are familiar and relatable to anyone who has navigated familial transitions. While there are some tonal and technical inconsistencies, the heart of the play remains compelling, and the performances are not to be missed.