The Summer Season at Pitlochry Festival Theatreby Randi / November 2, 2022It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is the classic Shirley Valentine, which just finished its run in Pitlochry.
Okay I said ‘classic’ because I know now that it is but to be honest, I had never heard of this show/movie/amazingess before seeing it last weekend. I think it’s probably an American millennial pop culture gap, because after the show we mentioned the name to my parents and they were like “oh my god Shirley Valentineeee what a great movie” and went on for hours (not hours) recalling the cast, and then we mentioned it to our our-age British friends and they were like “oh yeah for sure Shirley Valentine, it was big here!” So apologies Shirls, but better late than never. Anyway WHAT A SHOW. My takeaway: Sally Reid as Shirley is giving a performance that argues for the Oliviers to award regional theatre treats.
Shirley Vals is about a very bored, very neglected housewife who spends her days talking to a wall about literally everything, man she can talk. The whole first act is watching her talk ‘to the wall’ about her whole life — her shitass husband, her annoying-seeming kids, her full-of-shit faux feminist friend, all the people she went to school with, all her fears and anxieties and preoccupations, mince. It’s a two-hander (real definition) but you’d never know it, with all the vibrant pictures she paints and all the relatable takes on mid-life housewifery and just life in general for all humanssss we all have more in common than we thiiiink. The gist of the action is, her friend has invited her on a vacay to Greece for two weeks, already paid for. People who have been lucky will read that and be like ‘okay awesome lezzzzgooooo, maybe make it 3’, but people like Shirley fret over how she could possibly unglue her feet from her kitchen floor, explain to her not-listening-anyway husband, and generally, mostly, how she could dare to do something with or in her life that isn’t to simply suffer in silence and watch it pass by. SHIRLEY! GOOOOO!
You know I get v v close to screaming when I’m riveted by the action up on that stage, and Shirley’s hemming and hawing and ‘I couldn’t possibly’ and ‘but oh I must’ and ‘no no I mustn’t!’ and ‘but mustn’t I’ left me so scared that she wouldn’t go, but hooray huzzah she does, and she liked it, and she loved it. And so did we. On her whole journey of telling us her life story and then living one, she shares with simplicity and straightforwardness some revelatory things about humanity, shared insecurities, assumptions people make. The threads of these various aspects were the best part of the play, by far. She shares about the girl from school that she was jealous of, intimidated by, and then recounts how she ran into her the other day and they had tea, and both learned that the other felt the exact same way. They could have been friends but they were too in their own heads, deciding what the other thought and felt without actually bothering to find out the truth. I MEAN THAT IS VERY UNIVERSAL. (Also this provided one of my favorite accent parts: when the friend revealed she now works as a classy escort, Shirley says ‘hawker’ or at least I thought that’s what she said. I was like what does being a hawker mean. A salesman?)
In a similar manner, the interaction with Shirley’s judgmental neighbor was beautiful and touching. Shirley always felt small around her but when the neighbor revealed she thought she was brave, I mean, that was the most emotional part of the whole very emotional show, I think. Like with the friend, it showed how assumptions about others are rarely right (I’m sometimes right) and you’re never alone in what you’re thinking or feeling. SO TOUCHING. Just lovely. I said interaction but it’s just one woman up there. Sally does such a gorgeous job of delivering a whole world that as I’m remembering the play I’m actually seeing a whole cast of characters in my mind.
Anyway I’m so happy this not-real-but-she-became-so-real-so-I’m-thinking-of-her-as-real-and-anyway-there-are-plenty-too-many-really-people-just-like-her-in-real-life-so-I-hope-they-also-get-theirs woman went to Greece and had a ball and rethought her life because life is too short to be stuck talking to a wall. What a flawless production of a great, moving play. Liked it, loved it.
INFORMATION
The Pitlochry Festival Theatre is an enormous space that I don’t think could ever be filled even if everyone in town during the height of tourist season came, so there’s usually room to move around away from people, which is the greatest thing you could ever ask for when out in public. The theatre went through a recent refurb and it shows, except for the bathrooms which didn’t get the memo, which is a shame but there’s never really a line. The bar has vegan treats (still no ice cream) and little water fountain spouts. All in all a fantastic theatre.
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Questions I hope HEX answers before opening night
The brand new musical Hex is due to open tomorrow night at London’s National Theatre. Given its awesome-sounding premise — it’s a dark musical retelling of the Sleeping Beauty story starring the great Rosalie Craig as the fairy responsible for the curse — I was too excited to wait for opening night. Instead, I saw an early preview and. . .well. . .yeesh. Rather than parroting the fellow audience members we overheard as we left the theatre (“wow what an absolute mess”), I’m going to list some of the questions I hope the creatives can manage to answer before the show is frozen. If these questions can be answered in time, and the holes they address fixed, then there’s a chance this show can be saved. There is so much potential in that elevator pitch, but that potential has unfortunately been left to gather dust with Lorelai’s golf clubs.
Question 2. What was Fairy’s backstory?
This question gets to the big hole in the show. Fairy’s sad history is hinted at throughout — she’s the only fairy left; she has no wings; she was ‘left behind’ by all her brethren — but we never hear a ‘why’ for any of it. What happened to all the other fairies? Why is this weird schizophrenic* childish being the only fairy left in the land? Why is she so messed up? How did she get so messed up? Why can’t she think straight? Did she suffer trauma? Is she supposed to be special for surviving, or is it just dumb luck — or bad luck? How did she lose her wings? Answers to any of these questions would go far to help develop the character in interesting ways: why she’s so weird, why she’s alone, why her story deserves to be told. But we get zilch.
*not using offensively; she legitimately is portrayed as schizophrenic, displaying classic symptoms including but not limited to: hearing voices, having delusions and hallucinations, being unable to communicate effectively, having abnormal motor functioning, neglecting personal hygiene, having useless/excessive movement, exhibiting bizarre posture, &c. Which, actually, forces a Question 2b: Why is Fairy portrayed as schizophrenic???
Question 3. Why didn’t the queen sleep?
My crim law professor used to go through alleged facts and point out where something “didn’t pass the smell test”. I thought of that frequently during this show. Let’s start at the very beginning: The queen has a new baby who refuses to sleep. The entire castle’s staff is exhausted. So, the queen orders a lackey to go find a fairy to put the baby to sleep. Okay, so, if they had already gotten a doctor and the doctor couldn’t do anything – and couldn’t find anything wrong with the baby underlying the wakefulness – why not just have the staff rotate caring for the baby? I don’t buy that this self-absorbed (annoying, very panto) queen hadn’t slept. She surely would have go to bed in far away quarters each night and left her staff to watch the baby. (And also, if there’s nothing medically wrong, why turn to black magic? But that would undo the whole myth, so whatever.)
Question 4. What urged Fairy’s hex?
An interesting new aspect of this story is the notion that fairies are supposed to only ‘bless’ (give magical favors that the person being blessed actively wants), rather than ‘hex’ (put magic on a person that they don’t want). She found that the baby didn’t want to sleep, and as a result the fairy didn’t want to force the baby to sleep as that would be a hex. (Drink!) Fairy said the baby would sleep when she was tired, i.e. when she wanted to sleep. This wasn’t good enough for the royal family, and they ‘forced’ Fairy to hex the baby to sleep. The forcing made Fairy so. . . something, that she hexed the baby to sleep unendingly once she gets pricked by a thorn (until, of course, the true love’s kiss). But this huge pivotal moment of the story was rushed through so it was unclear why Fairy did such a hex. Yes she was being held captive and she was clearly stressed out, but what made her think of this specific, peculiar curse with all its random details? Why not hex the people who are actually assaulting her, capturing her? Why not put the baby to sleep then and there? Why do such a bizarre hex? Literally one line supporting her action, revealing anything about her mindset, would have been good. Her decision here is the entire foundation of this story, so it needed to be supported at least a little. I keep seeing Michael in The Good Place waving his hand and saying ‘don’t worry about it’ in response to questions.
Question 5. What happened to the staff?
The baby, Rose, grew up sheltered in an attempt to prevent her from ever being pricked by a thorn. But that day finally came when she was a teen, and she fell into her hexed sleep. Rose woke up after 100 years, ostensibly having long been alone in the castle. No one else was there. Did the existing staff really abandon this cursed princess? There was no plan put in place by previous royals to continue keeping watch over this child throughout her slumber, throughout the subsequent generations? I don’t buy that at all! That’s so irresponsible! Abolish the monarchy!
Question 6. Are the murderous thorns supposed to be funny?
The personified ‘thorns’ who pricked Rose to sleep then set about pricking every single prince who tries to enter the kingdom to lift the curse, sending them into long-term sleep as well. (Though it seems at first like straight up murder.) This whole segment is done like a creepier murdery-er version of the Oompa Loompa songs but it’s also clearly supposed to be funny. I found it so cringey. So much murderous energy. So much of an annoying song. So much time devoted to these giant murderous thorns who want to put everyone who crosses their path to sleep forever?? I hated it.
Question 7. How did Rose know wassup?
When Bert* wakes Rose up and they immediately seem to love each other, how did Rose — who has been asleep 100 years and before that lived a completely sheltered childhood to prevent the cursed (two syllables) thorn prick — seem totally in the know about love and sex and I don’t know IMMEDIATELY HAVING TWO BABIES?? She would be a total Nell ta ta, not a regular modern teen who is totally chill with becoming a teen mom with no support system.
*Question 7b. What kind of name for a prince is Bert?
Question 8. What’s going on with the music?
With each of the songs, I struggled to get a handle on what was happening. Instead of a cohesive single song (let alone cohesive score), each movement felt like different groups of small musical phrases smashed together, never coalescing into actual songs with melodies, or foundations, or points. It was a very strange chaotic experience, to think you grasp what a song sounds like and what it’s doing and then have it keep shifting away from you musically, in a lawless deranged way rather than a creative way. And there was so much of the modern pop vocalizing/shrieking/riffing instead of legitimate singing, a trend I truly despise. Of course Rosalie sounds wonderful but her talents are not given enough to work with.
Question 9. Why was the whole second act focusing on the ogre grandmother eating her grandchildren?
This was where every audience member I could see was imitating my favorite little blonde toddler girl gif, you know the one. The action shifted to focus entirely on the ogre queen wanting to eat her grandkids and being unable to control herself. Why, just so much why. Why didn’t Fairy tell Rose that the ogre was after her babies and would probably kill her too and urge her to GTFO RIGHT NOW? Instead Fairy killed some animals to trick the queen into believing she was eating the babies. Is Fairy that inept, that much a bumbling fool? It was insufferable. Why didn’t she just say RUN instead of cowering with the babies? It took a helluva lot more time to hunt down the goat and the rabbit and whatever it was (NOT great sound effects of slaughter btw, could definitely have done without that awful harrowing bullshit) than it would have to just shove the babies into the arms of their mother and shove them all out the door.
Question 10. Why don’t the book and score match up?
My biggest problem (okay they’re all the biggest) was that the book didn’t make sense on its own, and then the song lyrics didn’t match the book/action at all. It reminded me of the Broadway flop A Tale of Two Cities. In that show, this powerful supporting character spends the whole show wanting to get revenge for her brother, and then in Act II sings her big number, the main lyric of which was ‘out of sight, out of mind.’ Which had exactly zero to do with her character’s situation or the need for revenge for her brother. It was like, wtf?? That’s not what’s happening here, that’s not what you’ve been saying? I thought of that during this show.
Specific songs:
– Bert’s song was both indecipherable and also a heroic pomp-y song but in a creepy minor key. Why that key if it’s supposed to be a pump-up song? It didn’t fit to introduce the character.
– The opening song of Act II, with all the suitors singing about maybe one day finally being the one or one day it’ll be me or maybe this time or whatever, made no sense. These people also just woke up from decades being cursed asleep, and their first thought is about one day winning? getting the prize? (the princess? gross) and not about ‘oh my god where is my family, where is my home, do I not have a home anymore? how many years of my life did I miss?’ What do you mean one day it’ll be you, do you know you just woke up from like 80 years asleep? You just got a miracle second chance done on you and you’re complaining about the before times? Go see about your life, men! Make it make sense.
– The big climactic song about how everyone is different on the outside vs the inside was the greatest example of the aforementioned Tale of Two Cities illogicality. The lyrics do not reflect what had been told in the story. Rose says she’s smart on the outside? She has not lived at all and left two babies unattended for an ogre to catch! Bert says on the outside he’s seen as a hero? He hasn’t done shit heroically yet! No one thinks you’re a hero! Worst of all, the ogre who just thought she happily ate her grandbabies says that she is going to start being true to herself. BEING TRUE TO YOURSELF IS EATING BABIES! You need to work to NOT be true to yourself!!!
Question 11: Why is the promising Rose and Bert conflict treated like an afterthought?
The Rose and Bert conflict is infuriatingly done. He doesn’t believe what Rose says about his mother – that she’s an ogre and so on – and he NEVER DOES believe her, not until his mother reveals the truth herself. Yet afterward, Rose is the one to run after him to apologize, leaving her babies unattended. I mean I guess that’s all believable for an 18-year-old who just woke up but I don’t think it was presented in that way. It seemed actually presented as her needing to apologize to him, which is absolutely bonkers. And it all seemed secondary to Fairy trembling and wincing around the stage and also wanting to be friends with the ogre? When did the ogre become her best friend? See so many questions.
The most frustrating part of this show (okay it’s all the most frustrating part) is that in this climactic segment, instead of having a song about Rose and Bert’s conflict and giving some character depth and development through song as musicals are supposed to do, they give us a silly R&B song for the suitors that lifts right out. Another point in the panto column.
Question 11b: Why does Rose consider the suitors, who she never met until right now, her best friends? They have all been asleep and never met before.
I have more questions, like why is the humor geared to the lowest common denominator? why are there so many elements that evidence a favoring of panto over the musical art form? is this for kids or adults? but I’ve asked enough. With some work, it would be a decent show – it has so much promise in that premise. But it’s presented as though the creatives don’t believe in the premise and instead stuff the hours with low-grade jokes, unfinished sentences, and mere sketches of characters. Hex was unfortunately tonally confused and sloppy. I hope there is time to answer these questions before the show is set so that it can try to find its proper footing.
INFORMATION
Hex opens Wednesday December 15 at the National Theatre. At my performance, Act I ran from 7:20 to 8:38, Act II ended at 9:55. Hilariously, the placards outside the doors said the run time was 2 hours 34 minutes, a mind-boggling specificity that I will never understand the point of announcing.
“The Ferryman” on the West End: Grim Irish History Told Through Family Dynamics
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about “The Ferryman”, currently in the West End until May 19. It is transferring to Broadway in the fall so get your tickets!
I know I tend to be extremely critical of what is in truth fairly decent theatre in London (I take my lead from the basketball coach in “Love & Basketball” (“you think I’d go hoarse for a player with no potential?” = how I live my life)). And while I’ll stand by my affirmation that British musical theatre is in an abysmal state, they do know how to do dramatic plays here. One of the most exciting British playwrights is Jez Butterworth (actual name), and every time he premieres a new play everyone on both sides of the Atlantic goes oh boy in a good way. His play “Jerusalem” won Mark Rylance another Tony and people raved about it even though I have approximately zero idea what was happening on that stage aside from Mark doing a keg stand at one point I think? I skipped Hugh Jackman in “The River” because early reports said he pretty much sits on a log and de-bones a fish for the 2 hours and as fascinating as that shit sounds my attentions were better diverted elsewhere. Luckily, third time appears to be the charm for me and dear old Jez (who I just learned wrote “Spectre” and “Edge of Tomorrow”?? way to get those Hollywood bones Jezzy!) because his newest work “The Ferryman” is astonishing.
I know I tend to be extremely critical of what is in truth fairly decent theatre in London (I take my lead from the basketball coach in “Love & Basketball” (“you think I’d go hoarse for a player with no potential?” = how I live my life)). And while I’ll stand by my affirmation that British musical theatre is in an abysmal state, they do know how to do dramatic plays here. One of the most exciting British playwrights is Jez Butterworth (actual name), and every time he premieres a new play everyone on both sides of the Atlantic goes oh boy in a good way. His play “Jerusalem” won Mark Rylance another Tony and people raved about it even though I have approximately zero idea what was happening on that stage aside from Mark doing a keg stand at one point I think? I skipped Hugh Jackman in “The River” because early reports said he pretty much sits on a log and de-bones a fish for the 2 hours and as fascinating as that shit sounds my attentions were better diverted elsewhere. Luckily, third time appears to be the charm for me and dear old Jez (who I just learned wrote “Spectre” and “Edge of Tomorrow”?? way to get those Hollywood bones Jezzy!) because his newest work “The Ferryman” is astonishing.
Despite Jezzington’s being English, this play about Ireland and the IRA in the 1980s feels as authentic and real and accurate as any play has. For those of you who are like ‘eh what’s the difference’ NO it’s a very big deal and this play tells you why. Granted I’m not exactly the foremost living expert on the subject and literally knew as little as possible about this history while not living under a rock before seeing the show, as I am neither British nor of the 99% of Americans claiming to have Irish blood. But everything I needed to know was effectively communicated by Jezathon’s pitch-perfect dialogue and Sam Mendes’s precise direction, fully transporting me to this other world and filling in any gaps. I had no doubts or questions of ‘why is this happening’ or ‘what does that mean’; everything is accounted for or if not it doesn’t matter because you trust that it will come. The whole feel of the play was masterful. Its three acts weave personal and public stories together in a compelling way, and once it ends (with a roar) you realize everything comes together in an even more extraordinary way.
“The Ferryman” tells the story of the Carney family in northern Ireland during the Troubles, when the Irish Republican Army was getting more and more violent and they ‘disappeared’ nonconformists and fighters were dying of hunger strikes and generally everything was a bit terrifying for mostly everyone, as is normally the case during times of war and/or struggle. The Carneys are a large clan with more and more children seeming to come out of the baseboards as the story begins, including an actual baby. When one of the teenage kids comes down the stairs (really steep really long stairs, mind you, and I was like omg don’t fall don’t fall omg don’t) holding the real infant and not a doll or a wrapped up melon like plays usually use, the audience gasped like they had never seen a baby before. I mean I get it, it is noteworthy and look I am talking about it still, but man alive. The audience similarly gasps and shrieks when live rabbits and geese appear onstage (I do not approve of using animals for your art because most of the time it is unnecessary and here it also adds nothing but at least they treat the animals well? ughhh stop it though).
We meet the apparent heads of the family, Quinn (Owen McDonnell) and Caitlin (Rosalie Craig), in the wee small hours, having a grand time (they do say grand a lot too, these Irish) as everyone else (children, cousins, ancient great aunts and uncles) sleeps. When it is revealed through casual dialogue in a later scene that Caitlin is actually Quinn’s sister-in-law, and he’s really married to a different woman named Mary (we had an understudy and she did not make an impression, although the character doesn’t have much to go for her anyway), the realization is even more dramatic than the one for ‘oh shit that’s a real baby!’ It’s one small example of how the meticulous direction and writing makes everything seem momentous and yet realistic at the same time. Caitlin married Quinn’s brother Seamus decades prior, and they had a son who is now a teenager. But 10 years ago, Seamus went missing, and ever since then Caitlin and her son have been living with Quinn and his family and the extended fam in a situation ripe for drama, not the least of which is that Caitlin and Quinn have been falling in love with each other.
Their world is shaken when news arrives that Seamus’s body had finally been found, putting to rest any doubts about whether he had run off or had been taken out as well as any hopes of his return. Considering how long they’ve lived without him, it shouldn’t have been too difficult to adjust to the truth, especially since many assumed he was dead from the start. But it’s undeniable now that his death was linked to the IRA, and not for Seamus’s own doings but for his brother’s, and so the whole family is in jeopardy until the Mafioso-like boss man is satisfied that the family will stay quiet about it all. Meanwhile, it’s time for the men to bring in the annual harvest and celebrate it, so they invite their cousins in to help with the work and the food-filled celebration, all while we hear of the freedom fighters dying of hunger strikes. The family lives, like everyone does, in whatever protective bubble they can form, but as always the outside world bursts it eventually.
The arrival of the tough male cousins for the harvest brings even more issues, as they are much more politically oriented and eager to join the IRA. Their younger cousins are susceptible to their big ideas, especially Caitlin’s son Oisin (Laurie Kynaston who pretty much shook the entire time to convey how f-ed he was), and their conversations about the fight and what needs to be sacrificed for freedom were stressful beyond belief. The line between what’s necessary for freedom and what should never be asked of someone has never been dramatized so well by simply having young men talk out their asses, as they do. The acting in these scenes from Francis Mezza and Terence Keeley had my blood pressure up so high, like dangerously high, so they must have done a really good job. Fortunately these scenes, of all the male cousins, have the best comic relief. There’s the youngest of the visiting cousins who curbs his constant drinking (as everyone onstage is indeed constantly drinking; they are Irish) with “Well, as they say, there’s only so much whiskey a 13-year-old boy can drink.” And then there’s my favorite line in the whole show, when one of them tells the joke: “You know how you know The Elephant Man was a Protestant? Because he looked like a feckin’ Protestant.” Oh my god it’s my new favorite joke.
Even with all these child actors (who are notoriously weak save for Sydney Lucas), I can’t think of one false note from this cast. I was nervous because we saw the replacement cast, as I was stupid and didn’t really care to see the show when it first premiered because I had musicals to see baby! So we missed out on the great Paddy Considine and Laura Donnelly as Quinn and Caitlin. Laura won the Olivier for this role and – more importantly – appears from my research to be the g-d inspiration for the play, as her uncle was disappeared by the IRA when she was a baby and Jezzothy was like hey partner-at-the-time-is-it-gonna-be-weird-when-we-make-this-play-and-we’re-no-longer-together, that’s sounds like a good idea for a play! Feck, as they say. But I honestly can’t imagine the original cast being any better. I had no idea that Rosalie Craig, who I really like, was going to be in it, so I was excited and my high expectations were exceeded beyond measure. Everyone was fantastic, not least Justin Edwards as Tom Kettle, the slow Englishman who the Carney family helps and treats as family despite all the republicans despising every last English person and wanting to get rid of him simply for his heritage. His Tom pulled at all the heartstrings but good, even though I think the large-and-dim-witted-but-good-hearted-man-who-will-face-tragedy-by-play’s-end trope has been overused in theatre.
Given how much happens and how much we learn about so many characters, it’s surprising that it’s only three hours. The fact that I’m using the word ‘only’ to describe a play that’s longer than my two faves of this season (The Band’s Visit and Once On This Island) PUT TOGETHER and that has only one interval so I had to pee distractingly badly says a lot about how well done it all is. I can’t think of a better written play I have seen over here, honestly. The layers of interpretation and meaning in the writing never seem to reach an endpoint. So much symbolism abounds and so much links the different generations. The title refers to the mythological ferryman, Charon, of the river Styx who collects the souls of the newly dead and brings them from our world to the other, except for those souls from bodies left unburied (like Seamus) who have to wander the shores for 100 years. The darkness of this reference adds even further shadow to this story. The thwarted love between Caitlin and Quinn mirrors the sadness of their own relatives, with both great aunts telling the children the tales of their lost loves. One of those aunts, the best one, named I shit you not Aunt Maggie Far Away (because her dementia brings her to far away places when she isn’t present), recounts at one point her siblings’ dealings with the IRA when they were younger, and how when those interactions came to a head she saw banshees, endless scores of them, on their farm. When she screams at the end that she sees them again, coming to this farm, and that everything mentioned earlier has come full circle as history always does, you realize that Jezzbury does full circle endings better than Amy Sherman-Palladino could ever dream. And that ending, man alive (or not, as it is). I will break my normal rule of spoiling whatever I write about since this one is coming to Broadway next season and I don’t want to ruin anything, so I’ll just suggest that you gird your loins.
“The Ferryman” tells the story of the Carney family in northern Ireland during the Troubles, when the Irish Republican Army was getting more and more violent and they ‘disappeared’ nonconformists and fighters were dying of hunger strikes and generally everything was a bit terrifying for mostly everyone, as is normally the case during times of war and/or struggle. The Carneys are a large clan with more and more children seeming to come out of the baseboards as the story begins, including an actual baby. When one of the teenage kids comes down the stairs (really steep really long stairs, mind you, and I was like omg don’t fall don’t fall omg don’t) holding the real infant and not a doll or a wrapped up melon like plays usually use, the audience gasped like they had never seen a baby before. I mean I get it, it is noteworthy and look I am talking about it still, but man alive. The audience similarly gasps and shrieks when live rabbits and geese appear onstage (I do not approve of using animals for your art because most of the time it is unnecessary and here it also adds nothing but at least they treat the animals well? ughhh stop it though).
We meet the apparent heads of the family, Quinn (Owen McDonnell) and Caitlin (Rosalie Craig), in the wee small hours, having a grand time (they do say grand a lot too, these Irish) as everyone else (children, cousins, ancient great aunts and uncles) sleeps. When it is revealed through casual dialogue in a later scene that Caitlin is actually Quinn’s sister-in-law, and he’s really married to a different woman named Mary (we had an understudy and she did not make an impression, although the character doesn’t have much to go for her anyway), the realization is even more dramatic than the one for ‘oh shit that’s a real baby!’ It’s one small example of how the meticulous direction and writing makes everything seem momentous and yet realistic at the same time. Caitlin married Quinn’s brother Seamus decades prior, and they had a son who is now a teenager. But 10 years ago, Seamus went missing, and ever since then Caitlin and her son have been living with Quinn and his family and the extended fam in a situation ripe for drama, not the least of which is that Caitlin and Quinn have been falling in love with each other.
Their world is shaken when news arrives that Seamus’s body had finally been found, putting to rest any doubts about whether he had run off or had been taken out as well as any hopes of his return. Considering how long they’ve lived without him, it shouldn’t have been too difficult to adjust to the truth, especially since many assumed he was dead from the start. But it’s undeniable now that his death was linked to the IRA, and not for Seamus’s own doings but for his brother’s, and so the whole family is in jeopardy until the Mafioso-like boss man is satisfied that the family will stay quiet about it all. Meanwhile, it’s time for the men to bring in the annual harvest and celebrate it, so they invite their cousins in to help with the work and the food-filled celebration, all while we hear of the freedom fighters dying of hunger strikes. The family lives, like everyone does, in whatever protective bubble they can form, but as always the outside world bursts it eventually.
The arrival of the tough male cousins for the harvest brings even more issues, as they are much more politically oriented and eager to join the IRA. Their younger cousins are susceptible to their big ideas, especially Caitlin’s son Oisin (Laurie Kynaston who pretty much shook the entire time to convey how f-ed he was), and their conversations about the fight and what needs to be sacrificed for freedom were stressful beyond belief. The line between what’s necessary for freedom and what should never be asked of someone has never been dramatized so well by simply having young men talk out their asses, as they do. The acting in these scenes from Francis Mezza and Terence Keeley had my blood pressure up so high, like dangerously high, so they must have done a really good job. Fortunately these scenes, of all the male cousins, have the best comic relief. There’s the youngest of the visiting cousins who curbs his constant drinking (as everyone onstage is indeed constantly drinking; they are Irish) with “Well, as they say, there’s only so much whiskey a 13-year-old boy can drink.” And then there’s my favorite line in the whole show, when one of them tells the joke: “You know how you know The Elephant Man was a Protestant? Because he looked like a feckin’ Protestant.” Oh my god it’s my new favorite joke.
Even with all these child actors (who are notoriously weak save for Sydney Lucas), I can’t think of one false note from this cast. I was nervous because we saw the replacement cast, as I was stupid and didn’t really care to see the show when it first premiered because I had musicals to see baby! So we missed out on the great Paddy Considine and Laura Donnelly as Quinn and Caitlin. Laura won the Olivier for this role and – more importantly – appears from my research to be the g-d inspiration for the play, as her uncle was disappeared by the IRA when she was a baby and Jezzothy was like hey partner-at-the-time-is-it-gonna-be-weird-when-we-make-this-play-and-we’re-no-longer-together, that’s sounds like a good idea for a play! Feck, as they say. But I honestly can’t imagine the original cast being any better. I had no idea that Rosalie Craig, who I really like, was going to be in it, so I was excited and my high expectations were exceeded beyond measure. Everyone was fantastic, not least Justin Edwards as Tom Kettle, the slow Englishman who the Carney family helps and treats as family despite all the republicans despising every last English person and wanting to get rid of him simply for his heritage. His Tom pulled at all the heartstrings but good, even though I think the large-and-dim-witted-but-good-hearted-man-who-will-face-tragedy-by-play’s-end trope has been overused in theatre.
Given how much happens and how much we learn about so many characters, it’s surprising that it’s only three hours. The fact that I’m using the word ‘only’ to describe a play that’s longer than my two faves of this season (The Band’s Visit and Once On This Island) PUT TOGETHER and that has only one interval so I had to pee distractingly badly says a lot about how well done it all is. I can’t think of a better written play I have seen over here, honestly. The layers of interpretation and meaning in the writing never seem to reach an endpoint. So much symbolism abounds and so much links the different generations. The title refers to the mythological ferryman, Charon, of the river Styx who collects the souls of the newly dead and brings them from our world to the other, except for those souls from bodies left unburied (like Seamus) who have to wander the shores for 100 years. The darkness of this reference adds even further shadow to this story. The thwarted love between Caitlin and Quinn mirrors the sadness of their own relatives, with both great aunts telling the children the tales of their lost loves. One of those aunts, the best one, named I shit you not Aunt Maggie Far Away (because her dementia brings her to far away places when she isn’t present), recounts at one point her siblings’ dealings with the IRA when they were younger, and how when those interactions came to a head she saw banshees, endless scores of them, on their farm. When she screams at the end that she sees them again, coming to this farm, and that everything mentioned earlier has come full circle as history always does, you realize that Jezzbury does full circle endings better than Amy Sherman-Palladino could ever dream. And that ending, man alive (or not, as it is). I will break my normal rule of spoiling whatever I write about since this one is coming to Broadway next season and I don’t want to ruin anything, so I’ll just suggest that you gird your loins.
INFORMATION
“The Ferryman” is playing at London’s Gielgud Theatre until May 19. There is one interval after just under one hour, which means you have to go two more hours without a bathroom break, unless you are the lady in front of me who positively SPRINTED during the 2-minute ‘pause’ between Acts II and III and made it back just as the lights were dimming again so needless to say I have a new hero. I enjoyed my seat on the stage left aisle in the front of the stalls, but be warned that the Gielgud, like the vast majority of London theatres, is a POS when it comes to design so the only bathrooms for the stalls are literally in the back of the stalls, and getting to them if you aren’t in the back is like a Tough Mudder course. Also, there are only 3 stalls. For the whole of the orchestra level. Someone needs to shut down all of the West End and refurbish these theatres until they make one iota of goddamn sense.
AUDIENCE
The audience was fine as far as phones go, decent as far as whispering goes, and horrible as far as being so sick that they should have gone to hospital instead of the theatre goes. Blech.
BEST PART
It’s five minutes’ walk from Yorica, the vegan ice cream salon, so yay because after the play ends and you are like ‘oh my god oh my god what the feck the previous three hours of my life and the previous hundred years of UK history is now falling on top of me and crushing me metaphorically but it all feels so real because well it is real and oh shit is it all going to happen again because of Brexit and what did humans do to this world and ahhhhhh’, you can go get ice cream and you really should because it helps.
