French playwright Florian Zeller delivers another emotional - and cryptic - snapshot-of-life with The Height of the Storm. A prequel of sorts to his equally as emotional play The Father, The Height of the Storm sees a family dealing with the aftermath of a death. But just whose, well that's unclear. As I write, I realise that perhaps the point of this play is actually to explore absence, more so than death. In particular, the sometimes gradual, sometimes abrupt, slipping away that comes with ageing.

Death might be the ultimate absence but loss of physical strength, mental ability, memory - all these aspects also sadly alienate people from those closest to them, and from themselves. In much the same vein as The Father, the audience is thrust into the minds of the characters and experience the confusion and chaos of memory alongside them. It is not for the faint hearted, and certainly not an all-ends-well piece of theatre. However, much like The Father, it does something so important in exploring the darker, sadder aspects of being human and forcing a perspective on us that we would otherwise try to avoid. In that sense it is an excellent piece of drama where the audience's experience is more important than telling a story.

Having already seen The Father previously when it ran at the Duke of York's in 2016, I do feel like that play captured my emotions more successfully than The Height of the Storm. By focussing on one specific aspect of ageing, The Father is able to explore it more earnestly and honestly. At times, the impact of The Height of the Storm becomes lost in narrative trickery, and at other time numbed by scenes that play slightly too much to our emotions. That said, it is another excellent play by a sensitive and impactful playwright, and not to be missed for those who appreciate good art that makes one think - and feel.