There are moments of humour – the first line we hear is “If I were the last person alive, I would like to be a nurse” which sets the zany tone for the clownish humour that runs mischievously through the piece. A scene at the opera in particular is entertaining. But this is a piece mainly about struggle, about mortality, about loss. The sequences in the early part of the show, when deaths are occurring with alarming frequency, when a plague comes to town, are artfully and poignantly done. It becomes less engaging, however, when the focus shifts to individual grief. We do not know for whom each of the three is grieving. Grief is never generic, it’s always about the loss of someone extremely particular. It’s as if various expressions of grief were portrayed, and portrayed well, but the essential dramatic ingredient of engaging with the audience’s own feelings was missing. Who were we supposed to be mourning? Where was the pathos? I was not disturbed. Sex was notably absent from the piece; this production seemed to come from the head, not from the heart or the groin.

Excellently lit by Marcus Costello, the show was good to look at, and I loved the sense of expanse created in the Project’s Space Upstairs, in which the performers, satisfyingly, didn’t put a foot wrong.