I JUST did not know whether to laugh or cry, and I mean that in the best possible way.

The Father is heartbreaking, tragic, at times deeply harrowing, while also having a devilish sense of humour.

At times you will find yourself feeling guilty for laughing, and that is the power of the play.

Florian Zeller's piece follows Andre, portrayed by veteran actor Kenneth Cranham, as he struggles to come to terms with his fast fading mind as he succumbs to dementia.

In a disjointed narrative we see Andre interacting with his daughter, her husband, and his carers, with the inter-scene music beginning to breakdown and warp.

Cranham is charming, witty, and likeable as Andre and it is painful to watch his pleads with his daughter Anne to reassure him this is his flat and that he is home.

It is story we can all empathise with, and one for me which brought home uncomfortable memories of visiting by grandmother in a nursing home before she died.

As Andre strides across the stage demanding someone tell him where his watch is, and making cruel accusations, it all gets a little too real.

“I feel as if I’m losing all my leaves,” Andre pleads, and I feel like my heart is breaking. 

A masterpiece.