The Crumple Zone review

Thomas’ fast-paced comedy is quite bleak, not least because it never slows down to explore any of its complex emotional make-up. Bad things just keep happening. It’s like dropping into a long-running sitcom, when you don’t know any of the characters and don’t quite understand their extreme behaviour. Bang’s production hits the ground running and pitched at a high level, and has nowhere to go after that. Manic behaviour gives way to hysteria, fuelled by vodka and nervous energy. There’s only a brief moment near the end of the play in which an exchange between Terry and Sam gives meaning to the curious title and offers something like thoughtful conversation.

The centre of this fractious piece is Terry, and James Grimm attacks the role with such nervous energy that it’s a little disconcerting. It’s a performance that does suggest a sense of self-loathing and despair: Terry lashes out cruelly at almost everything but refuses to take advice from others. To some extent, even Nicholas Gauci’s bullish hook-up Roger offers some sort of opportunistic release, but Terry is too tightly wound to settle for casual sex, despite instigating it himself.

The love triangle between Jonny Davidson’s conflicted Alex, Sinéad Donnelly’s pragmatic Sam and James Mackay as straight-talking Buck is barely explored, but Bang amps up the energy to mitigate that issue. The play is a little dated, although there are still laughs to be had at some of Terry’s frank observations. Mostly, though, it’s pretty dark, with just Bang’s zippy direction, which occasionally verges on farce, to provide the laughs.