Although Alzheimer Symphony does not yet have a widely known name, its merits are notable. Just over a year ago, it was highly acclaimed at the inaugural Tasmanian Theatre Awards, winning awards for Best Professional Original Work, Best Professional Writing and Best Professional Performance (Male) among others.

When you experience Justus Neumann's performance first-hand, there is no doubt of his calibre. The inevitable danger of a one-man show is its ability to hold the audience's attention, a worry which Neumann unfalteringly dispels. The intimate Street Two was perfect for the occasion; so strong was Neumann's portrayal that even at the end of the production, the audience sat quietly and transfixed, wondering what would happen next. Indeed Neumann's performance was so subtle that the original music by Julius Schwing sometimes takes attention away from him, in some places overpowering the stage presence of one man and the sparse reality of his deteriorating memory.

In contrast, the silent triumph of the production is its simple yet elegant set, which is centred on an intricate wheelchair-kitchenette hybrid. Designed by Greg Methe, this mechanism is invaluable in its storytelling, unravelling the plot through its many props and hidden compartments. As we learn more of Neumann's world, Methe's contraption becomes ever more pertinent in capturing the small and isolated environment in which Neumann's character lives. Breaking away every so often, the physicality of the stage is used very effectively to capture the fleeting nature of his thoughts.

The story is largely told verbally by weaving elements of Shakespeare's King Lear throughout, returning often to the iconic lines "Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks!" (Act 3, Sc 2). Elements of the text are forgotten as the production goes on, and Neumann's fumbling character desperately seeks to remember and communicate with himself and to the audience. It is in these moments that Neumann is at his most heartfelt – and often his most humorous, earning a few well-deserved laughs to punctuate the serious performance.

Returning at times to elements of his character's childhood, Neumann perfectly captures the fleeting memory snippets and perpetually distracted state of someone with Alzheimer's disease. The show makes no effort to hide the desolation of his situation, nor overemphasise his light-hearted moments; rather, for Neumann's character, that is just the way that his life is. A sad reality for many, but one which is told in a very touching manner.

There is a clear sense of cohesion throughout the performance. It is evident that Alzheimer Symphony is not only cleverly written, but also highly polished by the creative team to convey exquisite storytelling within a powerfully intimate production.