Heartsink, A Heartbreaking Journey

photo by Daniela Denyer Malo

The Heartsink press release describes the show as ‘a new medical comedy written by a former gp’, but after laughing, crying, and enjoying a spectacular performance, I can confidently say it was so much more. 

The play transported us through the final months of Dr. Jeffrey Longford, a physician turned patient by the hands of a disease that each passing generation recognizes more than the last - cancer. The actors keep the audience laughing, but the emotional jumps are nothing if not beautifully written, as they take us through real-world issues, daily-life concerns, and the inevitable pain of grieving someone who once lit up our days. The characters take us through the preoccupying take over of AI in our jobs, the discomforts technology causes, the confusing rules of society and conduct that still change every day, and then the deeper questions of life: from grief, to death, to dignity. 

This beautiful story about a doctor turned patient goes far deeper than the story of a man. Farine Clarke’s play, slightly misleadingly marked as a medical comedy, resists categorisation of any type. While witty on the surface, deep down this story is far more thoughtful and emotional, exploring illness, identity, grief, and care. At its centre is Dr Jeffrey Longford, a deeply respected GP in Somerset. His professionalism is balanced by his funny, sweet, close friend and colleague Dr Roofi, while Cara, a patient whose hypochondria masks a complex story, and Suzie, the steady presence at the cancer clinic, end up creating a world that feels both full of love and relatable pain at the same time. It’s basically a perfect portrayal of real life.

The play strips interactions down to their emotional core. Interrogating the subtle but profound loss of personality that often accompanies illness. Diagnoses become labels, and individuals are reduced to them. It is only when Jeffrey himself goes from being a doctor to patient that the full weight of this becomes evident in his own life, changing the play from observation into a deeper analysis of the health system and beyond. Clarke’s personal experience with this makes the writing of the play that much more human, more real. And the actors do an amazing job of bringing the script to life.

Right before the play began, a voice drifted across the small theatre, musing on Kathy Kiera Clarke: “If she had ambition and confidence, she’d get very far. She’s always waiting to see what comes her way…” It was an odd note of hesitation to hang in the air. What followed made it feel almost absurd. Clarke didn’t simply meet expectations - she quietly dismantled them. With effortless comic timing and a disarming lightness, she drew laughter with ease; yet, just as swiftly, she led the audience somewhere far more tender. Her story unfolded with a depth that was at once shocking, deeply humane, and unexpectedly beautiful, until the theatre - so lively moments before - fell into a perfectly still silence. By the end, she had us not just entertained, but moved, and many of us, unmistakably, in tears.

Photo by Daniela Denyer Malo

Among many striking moments, one line stands out for its quiet clarity: “People say things happen for a reason. I think it’s the other way around.” Clarke delivers it with such simplicity that it feels almost disarming, yet this line becomes one of the most beautiful and affecting moments in the entire play.

Dr. Longford, played by Aden Gillett, quietly anchors the play in its most difficult questions: how do you tell someone you love that you are dying, and how would you want to hear it? From the moment of his diagnosis, Gillett draws the audience into a space of raw vulnerability, where tears come not from melodrama but from recognition. What lingers most, however, is the depth of his connection to the role; there are moments where emotion seems to catch him just at the edge, blurring the line between actor and character. It is precisely this restraint, this refusal to overplay, that makes the performance so affecting. One line, in particular, cuts through in a devastating and relatable way: “I don’t want a painful ending, I’m just not that brave.” Delivered without theatrics, it lays bare a kind of honesty rarely given space on stage: the simple, human admission of fear. He carries us through the story with remarkable lightness, handling its heaviest themes with a gentleness that feels both rare and deeply earned.

Suzie, played by Megan Marzsal, arrives with immediate spark, drawing laughter from her very first moments on stage. Yet what could have been a purely comic role becomes something far richer in Marzsal’s hands. She brings warmth, intelligence, and an effortless charm to Suzie, revealing a character whose humour masks a quietly complex inner life. As the unexpected counterpart to Dr. Longford, she gently disrupts both his certainties and the audience’s own assumptions about choice, care, and responsibility. Marzsal’s performance feels so natural it borders on indistinguishable from reality; her ease and conviction make it entirely believable that she belongs in that world. In many ways, she becomes the emotional thread that ties the play together, offering not solutions, but presence, honesty, and a kind of companionship that feels profoundly human, while subtly pointing to the very real strains within the National Health Service and beyond. Her best line is also the one that should stay with us all: “It is amazing how much people can achieve in their last few months, last few days.” as she reminds us to live every second, to make every moment last, without waiting for the reminders that death or illness can be. 

And Dr. Roofi, played by Vikash Bhai, is the friend we all wish we had - or, more truthfully, a reminder of those rare, steadfast figures who anchor our lives. His devotion is immediate and unmistakable, shown through a warmth and constancy that are deeply earned rather than superficially sentimental. Yet the performance reaches further than comfort. Through him, the play acknowledges that love, in all its forms, carries its own weight, and that illness and loss do not belong solely to the individual, but ripple outward, reshaping those who stand beside them.

Bhai gives us a man defined not just by kindness, but by courage: the courage to stay, to speak plainly, and to tell the truths others might avoid. There is no performance in his loyalty; it is simply there, unshakeable, binding the characters together with love. In doing so, he leaves a lasting impression, not through grand gestures, but through the recognition that the friendships which shape us most are often the ones that endure the hardest moments too.

Suzie says it, but Hearsink shows it - one should never judge a book by its cover. What might sound like a familiar moral is given real weight through the lives unfolding on stage. Cara reveals how fear is rarely simple, but born of circumstances most of us would struggle to endure. Dr. Longford asks for a deeper kind of empathy, one that reaches beyond our own experience and into lives we can scarcely imagine. Dr. Roofi embodies a quiet, unwavering loyalty that feels, in this world, like the purest form of love. And Suzie stands at the centre of it all: bright, generous, and full of life, yet carrying a history that complicates every easy assumption. Clarke, Gilet, Bhai, and Marszal offer wonderful and unforgettable performances. Taken together, these characters do more than illustrate kindness - they make a compelling case for it, showing how, in even the most difficult of circumstances, it remains the force that changes everything.

If you're considering watching Heartsink, just know, your heart won’t sink; it will break - just as Dr. Roofi’s does - only in the best way. 

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Edited by Grace Mahoney. Theatre Editor