Tonight at the Hannah Playhouse the set comprises three boxes large enough to put a person in, a small divan, and other amorphous shapes all draped in white swag of cloth and lace. Co-writer and performer Alison Bennett sits on one large box upstage right, side on to us, dressed in plimsolls, jacket and a skirt just below the knee, all white and pale fawn. She is smiling shyly, occasionally taking a side-long peek at us as we file in.

As the lights go down, we realise all three performers are on stage. Martell Hammer, dressed identically to Bennett, appears from behind another box centre left. What we thought was a puddle of swag dropped centre stage turns out to be our hero, Genevieve, played by co-writer Rose Maher. She writhes and moans – perhaps being birthed into a dream – slowly rising to her feet covered in lace, as she recalls her mother’s story about her christening; introducing her relationship with the Catholic church as a child.

We are in a dream space. Is it heaven? We are given only ambiguous cues. Gen does not see the other two. Are they angels? Her conscience? Gatekeepers? Bennett and Hammer carry on a conversation about Gen, willing her to reach some undisclosed breakthrough.

The ‘Aunties from an ancestral plane’, as they are described in the promo, bicker and bargain, occasionally coming to blows, as they negotiate whether to interfere in Gen’s journey. Like poltergeists, they can have some physical influence on the world. As the story unfolds of Gen’s early life with her loved ones in the church, the Aunties also play characters in Gen’s life, allowing her to re-live childhood conversations.

The story develops gently, describing the piecemeal approach Gen must take to burrow through a hardened crust of denial and community groupthink, to find the truth everyone always knew. They ALL KNEW!

The script is beautifully acted. All three performers are superb. The archetypal cosmic Aunties are not caricatures. They surprise, they do not stay in their lane. They are gorgeous and cheeky and earnest. The large height difference between them emphasises the comedy duo aspect of their role, but there’s no straight man and funny man. Bennett is the optimistic one and Hammer the pessimist, but they both change their minds at least once as Gen travels on, stepping sometimes forward and others back.

Maher embodies middle-aged crisis, but the first-world problems of unrealised self-actualisation are just the symptoms, not the cause. She is totally believable as a complex person. The topic of this story demands it, as there is no straightforward explanation for what has occurred, and continues to occur in societies today.

This is a story of groupthink, of the roots of fascism and its abominations. Whether it’s Nazis, MAGA morons or rigid conservative communities, horrors always ensue, and people always want to go along with things and sweep the truth under the rug. Maher authentically explores how hard it is for a cult member to find catharsis.

Like all stories, this is not new. However, the telling is a delight. The relationships so believably enacted are vehicles for humour as much as exposition. The Aunties in particular are hilarious. There is no empathetic forced laughter here. The comic timing, brilliant dialogue and expertly moderated slapstick draws genuine laughter, true comic relief. Given the subject, this is remarkable, and fundamental to our own catharsis as the show ends, tantalisingly just short of a denouement.

Accompanying the actors is a soundtrack and lighting I can barely recall, so perfectly did it accompany the action, and so completely was I submerged in the story. (Lighting Designer Chloe Weeks; Sound Designer Gail Priest). I do remember the beautiful colour relief of simple yellow flashlights in one scene and another cluster of yellow lamps covered in white swag on stage.

The use of dance and the elevation of important lines into repeated mantras brought depth to the communication, echoing religious chanting and the dreamlike atmosphere (Movement Director Cloé Fournier).

This is my pick of the Fringe (so far). I am overwhelmed. There are three shows left as I write, two today and one tomorrow. It might be unpatriotic to say but if you see nothing else in our Fringe, see this. It is rich, unpredictable, profound, hilarious, utterly tragic and a guaranteed catharsis.

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