Ella Carmen Greenhill’s short play brilliantly hinges on a type of awkward miscommunication. Both intricate, frustrated and realistic, the perspectives of both Rose and her autistic brother Mikey are explored as they battle along-ide each other. Occasionally, they come into contact; most of the time however, the two do not, and cannot, mesh.

The lack of communication inherent between the two characters throughout the play maintains just the right amount of tension to keep the audience engrossed. When what is left unsaid eventually bubbles up in anger and the two begin screaming at one another, you could hear a pin drop among the utter silence in New Diorama’s intimate theatre space.

Walking into the New Diorama I was slightly unnerved by what appeared to be a hospital waiting room in front of me. An unusual set, it initially arouses feelings of slight discomfort. The set however fits in beautifully with the obstacles that confront the sibling’s relationship. It is hard to imagine warm brother and sister moments in a sterile hospital environment, and the organic relationship that usually grows between family members already faces challenges.

As the two repeatedly fail to understand each other, Greenhill creates two different worlds and explores how they come into conflict. Occasionally the lack of communication risks excluding Mikey. The audience is thrust into Rose’s frustration, her disappointment and anger, played excellently by Remmie Milner, but can at some points alienate Mikey’s voice and his reflection on the situation. Nevertheless, Greenhill doesn’t indulge simplistic stereotypes. Constantly combatting Rose’s tendency to paternalise her brother, this is a portrayal of autism that is carefully explored. Mikey thinks deeply and logically: he is a character rather than a diagnosis, and when Mikey does speak about the death of his mother, it is brilliant. Here Jamie Samuel must be commended on his sensitive portrayal of Mikey, which plays with the emotions of the audience; laughter quickly turns into uncomfortable silence and vice- versa. He dives into character from the outset, and sustains it throughout.

“I want to produce a piece of work that will get the audience talking to each other” explained Greenhill, and Plastic Figurines does exactly that. Any theatrical exploration of mental health is bound to be fraught with complications and confusion. After all, how do you present to an audience issues that are so intimately personal and subjective as one’s mind? In that vein, is it possible to write the perspective of an autistic person without actually having experienced it? Greenhill’s picture of mental health quietly but bravely delves into this confusion. The audience is jolted from past to present, as well as from intensity to light-hearted fun, in a play that embraces complication: joy and sadness wrapped together and playing with each other as the two siblings try to figure out their situation.

Plastic Figurines played at the New Diorama until 18 April. For more information and tickets, see the Box of Tricks website.