Review: Cartoonopolis at the Liverpool Playhouse ****

It’s a decade since writer and actor Lewis Bray introduced Liverpool audiences to the wild and wonderful world conjured by his creative younger sibling.

Then, Bray spun his story on the Playhouse’s intimate studio stage and with a raw and infectious energy, taking his audience with him on a giddy course through the challenges and triumphs of life for what I described in a review at the time as “one extraordinary, ordinary family.”

Bray was back at the Williamson Square theatre this week, this time on the main stage, fresh from a well-received run at the Edinburgh Fringe and, notably, with that extraordinary family in the audience to watch him.

Ten years on, his Cartoonopolis remains a tour-de-force one-man show, wrought with unconditional and absolute love but also with a certain amount of frustration (and, indeed anger) at a world which still often presents more incomprehensible obstacles than constructive solutions for families like the Brays.

Cartoonopolis is the name of the alternative universe created and populated by Bray’s younger sibling, who has autism.

In Cartoonopolis, Jack is king. Or at least Mayor. Popular, friendly and full of easy bonhomie, he's the wisecracking hero in control of his own world.

Outside this perfect make believe universe on the other hand, life can prove disquieting, confusing, threatening and overwhelming for the teenager who in Cartoonopolis is about to become an official adult, with all the legal and logistical challenges that entails in a system that's overstretched and still often uncomprehending.

Bray's affectionate portrait extends beyond his baby brother (I say baby, they are now both grown men) to embrace their parents too.

Mum Bev morphs over the years from trying to coax words (one of several poignant moments) from her youngest son to spending long hours in research to fulfil her role as his chief advocate. “You’d have to wake up early in the morning to get one over on me,” she says at one point. And you absolutely believe her.

Meanwhile dad Nige is a more chilled and laissez-faire presence, working the front row of the stalls in pursuit of a deal involving a tent. But while to some extent he fulfils the role of light relief, he’s never less than a sincere presence.

Bray also offers a few lovely vignettes, chief of which is the unexpected arrival on the scene of Gethin the Welsh driver.

The heartfelt and humorous Cartoonopolis started life as a crisp, hour-long piece at the Everyman’s Everyword festival of writing, then morphed into a full 90-minute show with an interval.

This most recent iteration compressions the narrative to a single, 75-minute act, although the energy tends to dip a bit in the middle, and with some of the action feeling a little repetitive there’s a case to be made I think for it being tightened further.

But while the form may have changed, what remains constant is Bray’s physical energy, and his commitment to what is a compelling and powerful piece of personal storytelling.

If you missed it at the Playhouse this week, there’s a chance to catch Cartoonopolis at Storyhouse in Chester next Thursday.

Top: Lewis Bray in Cartoonopolis. Photo by Alex Brenner.