First up tonight was the Manx National Youth Theatre performing The Snow Dragons by Lizzie Nunnery. The curtain opened with the spotlight on the trees (Leah Prow and Mary Teare) shrouded, ethereal and draped in Ivy. The stage was a wonderful mix of scaffolding, Fir trees, buckets, baskets, weapons, bins and bin lids. It looked like a children’s playground in the woods, and that’s exactly what it was. The actors clambered, scrambled and ran around every bit with confidence, energy and enthusiasm. Today we see fearless Raggi (Gracel Delos Santos) and her gang playing out their Snow dragon sagas, fighting with swords, spraying golden autumn leaves as dragon fire, and burning Ignoble to death (Joe Locke – he died well, he told us so). Then everything changes, and the children watch from the trees as their village is raided by the incoming occupation. As children though, they stay in the playground and just carry on, the Royals ran, but they are the last line of resistance surviving on stolen Nazi food. The contrasting characters are wonderful, defined, erratic and wise all at the same time. Viking Odd (Nathan Reynolds) found some unique (but not necessarily successful) hiding places. His big brother Harri (Alex Reynolds) has a very decisive right hook, and Snorri (Jaye Radcliffe) realises she has to leave her stories behind. Christi (Ryan Coates) climbed and mourned his lost grandfather, Marta (Abbie Williams) found her courage growing in unexpected ways and Sig (Scarlett Clague) watches and wonders if she’d ever see her brothers again. This was a wonderful piece of drama with a very moving tableaux ending. It made me think of the Syrian displaced children we read about today. I don’t know who survived the guns; we think (we hope) someone did. I don’t know who played the Nazis at the end, but well done to everyone, another remarkable ensemble production. To quote Raggi ‘we’re not done till we’re done for’ and this team are a long way from that.

Our second play was Dear Mother by Mark James. Where The Snow Dragons was busy and energised, this was the opposite, simple and dignified. Just three actors onstage, Mother (Georgie King) and son Thomas James Broke, who is seen in two stages of his life. Mother is reading letters from her son Thomas. We meet him first as an 11 year old, (Daniel Ansara) who was absolutely engaging, looking directly at the audience but apparently talking to us all individually. Watching young Thomas was his older self (Samuel Turk), now in uniform and persuaded to join up by a white feather in 1915 (he is only 18 years old). Thomas writes with such confidence about his part in the Great War machine, that we can feel his excitement. He’s training and growing and it’s thrilling but the truth of the Great War is never far off. Samuel delivers Thomas’ own vivid, shocking deterioration with great honesty. His Mother sits and listens, occasionally her hands shake, and we see a handkerchief, but where I’d be full of grief and rage, this Mother delivers the most powerful punch with silence and self-composure. The staging was minimal, and the music was emotive ending with the Last Post. As the poppies floated gently down onto the stage, I thought about the postscript from Thomas’s letter ‘Ps, I just want to come home’. A simple, effective, powerful production.

• Helen Clarke, MADF Treasurer