Committed performances carry this bleak revival of Enda Walsh’s dark farce
In a dilapidated inner-London flat, petty tyrant Dinny and his emotionally stunted adult sons Sean and Blake endlessly perform a ludicrously garbled re-enactment of the events that led them to flee Ireland years before. This time though, their daily rehearsal is interrupted by the arrival of Hayley, a Tesco cashier who has noticed Sean during his forays for supplies.
First staged in 2006, Enda Walsh’s dark, absurdist comedy grapples with the complexities of storytelling, both in the power of stories to make sense of a frightening world, and in the dangers of deluding ourselves with comforting narratives divorced from reality. This production, directed by Nicky Allpress, is the first to receive a full-length run in the Southwark Playhouse’s smart new space, Elephant, situated a few minutes from the Walworth Road of the title. Though there’s plenty of surreal humour built into Walsh’s brilliantly skewed script, Allpress never shies away from the nightmare unfolding under the surface: the brothers are visibly traumatised and tearfully exhausted by their never-ending rehearsals. Hayley falls believably to bits when she realises that she’s stumbled into a hostage situation.
Continues...
Rachelle Diedericks plays Hayley as both emotionally needy and painfully naive, oblivious to the danger she’s in when she follows Sean home. Though she’s only rarely the focus of the plot, she plays out a complete, largely wordless story of her own, at first entertained and then horrified by the farce she’s become trapped in.
There’s a fragile tenderness between the two brothers, played with great commitment by Emmet Byrne and Killian Coyle, who communicate in signs and whispers when they can find a moment out of Dinny’s earshot. Both are haunted and harried, desperate to escape but aware, deep down, that they’re unable to cope with the outside world. As Dinny, Dan Skinner walks a fine line between deadpan comic delivery and outright menace. He’s a ruthless manipulator, relentlessly gaslighting his sons, quick to deploy violence when his coercive control slips. Despite the character’s grotesqueness, Skinner works hard to evoke some sympathy for this exiled shell of a man, unable to face up to the consequences of his own destructive actions.
Composer Joseff Harris provides a soundscape of rumbling traffic, sirens and hissing bus hydraulics that drift in from the street outside. During the play’s longer speeches, these ambient sounds give way to brief passages of soft, lyrical melodies. Anisha Fields’ detailed set places the family’s grimy bedsit within a stark scaffold of red metal bars. The flat is lousy with peeling wallpaper, dented appliances and threadbare carpets stained with shoe polish, crumbling in around the dysfunctional world that the characters have created for themselves.
Invest in The Stage today with a subscription starting at just £5.99