March 13, 2026

Discussions surrounding mental health are finally becoming commonplace in society. Therapy and psychiatrists are no longer an anomaly in everyday conversations, but suicide and suicidal ideation are still taboo. In their arresting play, “Every Brilliant Thing,” co-creators Duncan Macmillan and Jonny Donahoe are tackling suicide and deep-seated depression with a levity and wit rarely depicted on stage before. Starring Tony Award-winner Daniel Radcliffe, the solo production is unique and thrilling, reminding viewers of life’s magical and, yes, brilliant delights.

Directed by Jeremy Herrin and Duncan Macmillan, “Every Brilliant Thing” opens as the unnamed narrator (Radcliffe) lists some of the things he finds most enticing about the world: ice cream, roller coasters and his dog, Indiana Bones, to name a few. The narrator goes on to reveal that he started this list in the fall of 1996 when he was seven years old. He began crafting it, he reveals, the first time his mother was hospitalized. Told initially from his child-like perspective, the narrator reflects on a disorienting, puzzling day when his father picked him up late from school. Without the capacity to truly understand his mother’s illness aside from his father saying she “did something stupid,” he explains how it all felt to him. After being left to his own devices, the narrator composes a catalog of his personal joys to lift his mother’s spirits.

After explaining all the books, music and the school librarian and her delightful sock puppet, Poppy Terrific, who carried him through this time, “Every Brilliant Thing” continues across several decades. The narrator reflects on his mother’s second hospitalization, which he admits he didn’t handle as well as he did as a child. He recounts his college years, illustrates the jubilation of burgeoning love, and depicts a wedding and a funeral. All the while, he continues to add to the list even as his own mental health begins to falter.  
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The distinctiveness of “Every Brilliant Thing” can’t be understated. In the Broadway production, audiences are seated in both the house and on stage with Radcliffe, forming a circle around the performer. Having minimal props and no other castmates, Radcliffe engages directly with the crowd. Spectators are given numbered cue cards and prompted to call out the many gratifying things on his list. Others offer props like pens and books. Meanwhile, some are asked to stand in as characters in the play, including the narrator’s father, lover and Mrs. Patterson, the kindly librarian. Radcliffe improvs gamely with his “co-stars” throughout, drawing them out of their shells or responding to their idiosyncracies. As a result, no two performances are ever the same. This distinctiveness enables theatergoers to engage more fully with a narrative that is centered on living and indulging in the human experience rather than simply acting as passive observers. This fosters a level of camaraderie rarely found on Broadway.
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In turn, the play requires a certain type of performer to carry the story through its 70-minute run time. Radcliffe lends himself beautifully to the material, while simultaneously allowing the crowd to curate the experience for themselves. He is energetic, earnest and sincere from the moment the production begins right up until his final line. As an actor, he delivers a beautiful comedic sensitivity that might not land as eloquently in different hands. It’s clear the “Merrily We Roll Along” and “Harry Potter” actor cares deeply about the play and its themes, so the tone never feels too light, nor does he drag the audience into a dark hovel of despair.

Broadway performances, despite their sensational acting and writing, often follow a certain set of conventions. but, “Every Brilliant Thing” shatters the format, making it a true breath of fresh air. The difficult topics of depression and suicide are referenced throughout the show’s script. Yet the show is a reminder that amid all the challenges and heartache that life throws at us, there is always something to look forward to, even if it’s just for a little while.