A dementia drama that is not worthy of the National Theater

I’m all for pieces with enticing titles, but the name of this new work by Tanika Gupta is more than just a plot spoiler. It is just one of the countless elements that fail, that strive for weight but fail to achieve it. A Tupperware made from ashes struggles to coalesce into something with overarching impact, and serves as a salutary reminder that when a character says a line and the audience believes it to be, they are always two very different things.

“You revolutionized Indian cuisine in this country,” says ubiquitous best friend Indrani (Shobna Gulati) to Queenie (Meera Syal), who is apparently a Michelin-starred chef. But the courage, the texture, the lived experience behind the career in this statement is completely missing and the piece continues in this uninspired and uninspired way.

Queenie is the matriarch of a British Indian family, a widow with three grown children, and at the age of 65, after a series of denials and narrowly averted disasters, she is diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s disease.

At this point, Gupta takes a bizarre detour into the realm of King Lear: Queenie divides her fortune between the three children and announces that she will spend four months with each of them in turn. Indian culture’s reluctance to place sick or elderly people in nursing homes is on everyone’s lips, but the struggle to juggle demanding jobs and caring for an increasingly unpredictable Queenie is unsustainable.

Pooja Ghai’s production offers little that is surprising or exciting as she trudges through the many scenes. Until an unlikely revelation sheds light far too late, Queenie’s children Raj (Raj Bajaj), Kamala (Natalie Dew) and Gopal (Marc Elliott) are more shadowy figures than convincing characters. The most alive person in the play is the one who is actually dead: Ameet (Zubin Varla, excellent as always) is Queenie’s beloved and mischievous late husband, who occupies an increasingly vivid place in her fading memory. Ameet is Queenie’s near-constant companion, much more real than the fragmented present.

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Syal is, of course, a good comedian and creates a clear depiction of the early stages of Queenie’s dementia with her quick lines and sudden, vicious outbursts of anger, most of which are directed at Raj’s invisible wife. She’s less comfortable delving deep into suffering and loss as Queenie lashes out in her helplessness and withdraws, but in the ever-expanding scenes from the past with Ameet, it’s all vibrant life.

The plot became less and less compelling as it went on, as Gupta became more and more embroiled in a seemingly desperate struggle for power. Unfortunately, this is not a new work worthy of the National Theater.

Until November 16, National Theatre, London (020 3989 5455, nationaltheatre.org.uk)