At only an hour long, People of the Eye packs in more than most theatre pieces do in twice the time. A collage of scenes, it takes us on the journey of writer-performer Erin Siobhan Hutching's family, with Erin playing herself and her mother, and Hermon Berhane playing Erin's father, and her sister Sarah, plus a good few other characters.

Sarah has been profoundly deaf from birth, but is only diagnosed around the age of three or four, after Erin's birth, and after repeated attempts to get the doctors to acknowledge something might be wrong. Before you get too mad at the NHS, this was New Zealand in the 1980s, but I get the impression Sarah and her family's experience is far from unique.

Steering clear of universal statements and grand scheme politics, this experiential show cuts a very personal line, and is all the more effective for it. We are repeatedly shown, not told, what it feels like to be isolated, plunged into silence, having to enter a strange new land and a strange new language. Wisely ignoring the frankly criminal advice to avoid sign language at all costs, Erin's mother attends her first BSL class with trepidation, and bubbly teacher Lisa shows her, and us, some basic words as well as tips for getting a deaf person's attention. Erin's mother is a key figure, vulnerable and young in her trendy perm and makeup, but so brave in her fight for her daughter.

The set is beautifully spare, with piles of paper the only props. Everything else is conjured with an array of languages and media. We have video home movies, spoken English, subtitles, and star of them all BSL, which turns out to be not only beautiful, but also much quicker than the subtitles accompanying it. Occasionally I was confused, but never lost. And I think this was deliberate: how can I, a hearing person, possibly complain about missing information?

All this sounds a bit serious, and People of the Eye really isn't! It can't be, with its 80s pop culture, sisterly strength, and wittily delivered scenes like the "typical things kids say in the playground". It's moving, it's hard-hitting, it's cringemaking in places, but it's also great fun. At the end? Not a standing ovation, but a lot of arms waving in the air. It's a liberating alternative to clapping. You should try it.