“It’s Only A Play” on Broadway: You Should Still Try Thoughby Randi / October 28, 2014
“Speed-the-Plow”, the David Mamet play best known for the celebrities attached to its various productions because they’re the only reason to sit through its vacuity, is now on the West End. Remember how a few years ago, Jeremy Piven was set to star on Broadway but he had to bow out due to mercury poisoning because he ate too much sushi? That was this show. And that’s the most interesting thing about it! Now it’s on the West End, starring Lindsay Lohan in her Redemption Tour™ sponsored by Oprah. (Oprah was there opening night, and I didn’t know. I’m so BT about it. Though it’s probably for the best because if I ever met her I’d be like “Ah’s snitting next to Borpo!”)
Lohan not only showed up, but remembered all her lines and, less condescendingly, was actually decent. She was well cast as a young attractive woman who messes with a Hollywood exec’s head because of all her wimmininess, which I’m sure she has done often in her real life but due to her failure circa 2007 to show up to work rather than wimmininess.
“Speed-the-Plow” is about two Hollywood executives who are preparing to pitch a terrible-sounding but sure-to-be-money-making prison film to the studio head. They only have the option until the next morning, which is quite the forced timeline for allowing all sorts of dramatic things to happen. We only have 24 hours to pitch this to the boss! Oh no! He’s going to NYC for the day? Well let’s just meet him tomorrow morning and hope he’s not late, instead of mentioning anything about the film to him on the phone! Idiots.
Bobby is the newly minted head of production, and Charlie is his longtime, long-suffering associate. I say long-suffering because we get the idea that the two friends have been working together for a long, long time, but Bobby is the only one who has been promoted or paid well. So what is that about? Judging this production, I would say it’s because Americans think British people are smarter because of their accent, and Bobby (despite the understudy’s best efforts), is clearly British, so he got the promotions. Charlie, on the other hand, can do a super impressive American accent, so his studio bosses assumed he wasn’t as smart or cultured as Bobby. My blurring of the lines between the actors and their characters seems only fitting given the nonsense of this flimsy play and how much my mind wandered throughout. And indeed, Charlie’s accent was so impressive (especially compared to Bobby’s FAILURE TO SAY HIS R’S) that I almost thought he could be a compatriot. But then I saw his name was Nigel Lindsay. Nope. Not American. Can’t be more British than that. (Nigel was actually quite great in the role. But he acted like and physically resembled Norbert Leo Butz enough that I couldn’t help dreaming of how amazing Norbert probably was in the Broadway revival.)
Lindsay plays Karen, a role – originated on Broadway by Madonna, never forget – that is both thankless and demeaning, but with great shoes. She’s a temporary secretary for Bobby, and we know she is new to the movie business and quite naïve about its operating because she tells everyone she meets how ‘naïve’ she is every five minutes. It’s a super short play, less than 90 minutes, and half the words were Lindsay saying ‘naïve’. The other half was Bobby the Britman saying “entuh-tainment”. (And “unduh-stand”. SAY YOUR R’S. It’s the ONE rule of doing American accents.)
Bobby has been given a book about radiation and the end of the world and humanity and stuff to provide a ‘courtesy read’, which means he will read it to be nice but there’s no way in hell the studio would ever make it as a film. He tells naïve Karen this, and naïve Karen is like, but why? “Because it wouldn’t make money.” But why? “Because no one wants to see a movie about that.” But why? “BECAUSE I SAID SO DO YOU UNDUH-STAND?”
But Karen won’t take no for an answer, so she goes to his house at night, even though he’s gross and old, to discuss the enormous long book that she somehow read in its entirety and tabbed between finishing her work day and dinner time. Karen loved the book, to say the least. She thinks it’s the most brilliant piece of writing that e’er touched her heart and thinks it would somehow make a great movie. This is where Mamet gets both lazy and annoying. Karen reads SO MUCH OF THE BOOK out loud to us in her attempt to convince Bobby of its brilliance. All the parts she reads sound like the Dalai Lama when he is in a drug-induced dream fighting off Ewok-shaped clouds. Then the tables sort of turn, and even though we know Bobby is trying to seduce her, she starts seducing Bobby. It’s gross because Bobby is old and can’t say his r’s. Karen just keeps reading high Dalai Lama passages until Bobby says he’ll make the movie with her and then they doooo it. So gross.
Obviously this play is blargh. The only possible theme or moral you can take from it is that Hollywood values money over boring stories (ooh burn!) and that women ruin everything. David Mamet is like a more jackassery version of Aaron Sorkin, which makes sense because a smart friend of mine (not the internet) told me that Sorkin was inspired by Mamet. But Sorkin is better because at least “The West Wing” had solid female characters that weren’t just wimmins being vagina-havers that bother the men, as all female characters in Mamet works turn out to be because he seems a misogynist at heart. Lindsay’s character here exists only to mess up the bro dynamic between the two male leads, and then when the men realize that she messed with their heads (seemingly not with bad intentions), they dispose of her. OH no they don’t kill her, they just kick her out and say “Try getting another job in Hollywood ever again, missy!” which is maybe worse. Like what jerks.
If anyone can explain to me why this play is called “Speed-the-Plow”, and why hyphens, I will give you a cookie. Is this a famous phrase that other people know about and I just never learned, like wag the dog or get the pip? Don’t know it. (Interestingly, Mamet wrote “Wag the Dog” as well. But that one doesn’t have hyphens! Why not! Why is he messing with our minds?) So, in closing, you should see it. I think that’s what I’m trying to say.
“Speed-the-Plow” is about two Hollywood executives who are preparing to pitch a terrible-sounding but sure-to-be-money-making prison film to the studio head. They only have the option until the next morning, which is quite the forced timeline for allowing all sorts of dramatic things to happen. We only have 24 hours to pitch this to the boss! Oh no! He’s going to NYC for the day? Well let’s just meet him tomorrow morning and hope he’s not late, instead of mentioning anything about the film to him on the phone! Idiots.
Bobby is the newly minted head of production, and Charlie is his longtime, long-suffering associate. I say long-suffering because we get the idea that the two friends have been working together for a long, long time, but Bobby is the only one who has been promoted or paid well. So what is that about? Judging this production, I would say it’s because Americans think British people are smarter because of their accent, and Bobby (despite the understudy’s best efforts), is clearly British, so he got the promotions. Charlie, on the other hand, can do a super impressive American accent, so his studio bosses assumed he wasn’t as smart or cultured as Bobby. My blurring of the lines between the actors and their characters seems only fitting given the nonsense of this flimsy play and how much my mind wandered throughout. And indeed, Charlie’s accent was so impressive (especially compared to Bobby’s FAILURE TO SAY HIS R’S) that I almost thought he could be a compatriot. But then I saw his name was Nigel Lindsay. Nope. Not American. Can’t be more British than that. (Nigel was actually quite great in the role. But he acted like and physically resembled Norbert Leo Butz enough that I couldn’t help dreaming of how amazing Norbert probably was in the Broadway revival.)
Lindsay plays Karen, a role – originated on Broadway by Madonna, never forget – that is both thankless and demeaning, but with great shoes. She’s a temporary secretary for Bobby, and we know she is new to the movie business and quite naïve about its operating because she tells everyone she meets how ‘naïve’ she is every five minutes. It’s a super short play, less than 90 minutes, and half the words were Lindsay saying ‘naïve’. The other half was Bobby the Britman saying “entuh-tainment”. (And “unduh-stand”. SAY YOUR R’S. It’s the ONE rule of doing American accents.)
Bobby has been given a book about radiation and the end of the world and humanity and stuff to provide a ‘courtesy read’, which means he will read it to be nice but there’s no way in hell the studio would ever make it as a film. He tells naïve Karen this, and naïve Karen is like, but why? “Because it wouldn’t make money.” But why? “Because no one wants to see a movie about that.” But why? “BECAUSE I SAID SO DO YOU UNDUH-STAND?”
But Karen won’t take no for an answer, so she goes to his house at night, even though he’s gross and old, to discuss the enormous long book that she somehow read in its entirety and tabbed between finishing her work day and dinner time. Karen loved the book, to say the least. She thinks it’s the most brilliant piece of writing that e’er touched her heart and thinks it would somehow make a great movie. This is where Mamet gets both lazy and annoying. Karen reads SO MUCH OF THE BOOK out loud to us in her attempt to convince Bobby of its brilliance. All the parts she reads sound like the Dalai Lama when he is in a drug-induced dream fighting off Ewok-shaped clouds. Then the tables sort of turn, and even though we know Bobby is trying to seduce her, she starts seducing Bobby. It’s gross because Bobby is old and can’t say his r’s. Karen just keeps reading high Dalai Lama passages until Bobby says he’ll make the movie with her and then they doooo it. So gross.
Obviously this play is blargh. The only possible theme or moral you can take from it is that Hollywood values money over boring stories (ooh burn!) and that women ruin everything. David Mamet is like a more jackassery version of Aaron Sorkin, which makes sense because a smart friend of mine (not the internet) told me that Sorkin was inspired by Mamet. But Sorkin is better because at least “The West Wing” had solid female characters that weren’t just wimmins being vagina-havers that bother the men, as all female characters in Mamet works turn out to be because he seems a misogynist at heart. Lindsay’s character here exists only to mess up the bro dynamic between the two male leads, and then when the men realize that she messed with their heads (seemingly not with bad intentions), they dispose of her. OH no they don’t kill her, they just kick her out and say “Try getting another job in Hollywood ever again, missy!” which is maybe worse. Like what jerks.
If anyone can explain to me why this play is called “Speed-the-Plow”, and why hyphens, I will give you a cookie. Is this a famous phrase that other people know about and I just never learned, like wag the dog or get the pip? Don’t know it. (Interestingly, Mamet wrote “Wag the Dog” as well. But that one doesn’t have hyphens! Why not! Why is he messing with our minds?) So, in closing, you should see it. I think that’s what I’m trying to say.
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An Incredible Oooooklahoma! Like You’ve Never Seen Before
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is the 2019 Broadway revival of Oklahoma!, which saddest of the sads will close this Sunday, January 19, because of injustice/small theatres/probably Scott Rudin.
You don’t really get many musical theatre fans putting Oklahoma! in their lists of all-time favorite shows. Sure it’s Rodgers & Hammerstein and it’s a classic, but it’s also old-fashioned and kind of meh, a story about farmers loving their corn and their hoedowns and going a-flirtin’ and a-courtin’ and a-bakin’ and all. Or is it? People tend to forget that Oklahoma features legitimate darkness, maybe because it’s usually still treated with a shiny happy gloss while you sing about the surrey with the fringe on top and the good ol’ boys of America. But the current Broadway revival of Oklahoma from director Daniel Fish breaks down the show to its dark, disturbing core, in a truly soul-rattling production that feels more poignant and relevant to modern America than anything written this year.
With the minimalist set design and style (and a lot of guns) and nothing to distract you, this revival of Oklahoma lets everything hang out for you to see in its starkest, realest form. The lines and the lyrics are the same, but how Fish presents it and how the perfect cast performs it manages to turn the show from something cheery and cheesy into something incredibly complex and dark, and even knowing the story and the lyrics, I was concentrating too hard to remember to breathe at times.
The love story at the center is more complicated than ever. The cheerful and fun-loving Curly, as played by the superb Damon Daunno, has an air of unpredictability hidden in his good-natured cheeriness, reflected also in his wandering voice, which can easily go from folksy and relaxed to as strong and moving as anything you hear on Broadway. When he opens the show with “Oh What a Beautiful Morning”, my first thought was that I wanted to wake up every day to this rendition, of a song I usually skip! His Curly is still playful, but he’s so clearly the popular kid, a lad in every sense, fun-loving and ‘nice’ but hiding an edge, untrustworthy at a party. The object of his affection, Laurey, is the great Rebecca Naomi Jones, whose flirting and joking around with Curly seems to be based in legitimate confusion about what she actually wants. Her relationship with Jud, the villain who is obsessed with her, is also much more complicated: it doesn’t seem as fully unrequited as it usually is said to be. It’s unclear whether she’s actually attracted to Jud too or whether she’s just terrified into being nice to him, or both, but either way it’s now fascinating instead of casually explained by his wickedness.
Jud, played by Patrick Vaill, is the part of this revival that haunts me. His performance is the toned down yet even more convincing version of Joaquin’s Joker origin story. Everything that makes Jud Fry the villain is done in a way that makes you simultaneously pity him, understand him, and fear him, and he could easily be any mediocre white guy yelling at the internet from his basement while living smaller than he wants to. The part of the show that I usually hate, “Poor Jud is Dead”, was made riveting and tense, as a live video camera projects just Jud’s face in night-vision as he listens to Curly pleasantly torment him. This scene was the most incredible Ivo Van Hove directing I’ve ever seen, much better than when Ivo tries it. Vaill’s subtle emotional reactions – all in his eyes – during this scene were stunning, and made everything about his story so upsetting and so relevant. The original ending, with Jud threatening the lives of Curly and Laurie and ending up, um, “falling on his knife”, now leaves nothing to the imagination about the chain of events but everything up for discussion regarding what’s right and wrong about it.
Laurey’s Aunt Eller, usually somewhat comic, is in Mary Testa’s hands funny but formidable, and her performance after the much-changed climax was as menacing as anything. The real comic relief comes from Ali Stroker’s Ado Annie, James Davis’s Will Parker, and Will Brill’s Ali Hakim, all wonderful, but it’s Ali Stroker who steals the show every time she’s onstage and more than earns last year’s Tony Award. Comparing her version of “I Cain’t Say No” to the movie version, it’s like two completely different songs. She’s worth the Broadway prices alone to see her own that stage.
Every second of this production is exquisite, every beat, every choice felt essential – except the Dream Ballet. I really wanted to like it since I’ve heard so many people have the same review, but I didn’t think it worked at all. It’s a good idea to modernize it as a classic ballet would have felt out of place in this raw production, but I didn’t feel it accomplished anything. The original Dream Ballet is famous for showing that dance can actually further the plot in musical theatre and help tell the story rather than simply be accompaniment, but I didn’t find that to be the case here. Maybe because it didn’t seem like it was actually ‘dancing’, it was like ‘purposeful walking around’.
But aside from that, this revival is perfection. They’ve managed to make something so familiar into something so new, significant, and so chilling. Oklahoma! might not be on my list of favorite shows, but this particular production is one of the most genius things I’ve ever seen.
INFORMATION
Oklahoma! ends its run at the Circle in the Square in NYC on Sunday, January 19.
There’s not a bad seat in the house (it’s in the round, with the back wall closed off). The CITS toilet situation is annoying – downstairs for everyone. They need a new water filling system; the elementary school style water fountain would require you to Andy Dwyer it to actually get anything out of it.
VEGAN ALERT: they serve vegan chili at intermission!!! I do not think the cornbread is vegan but CHILI, MY LITTLE CHILI BABIES! YOU PUT THE PEEPS IN THE CHILI POT AND EAT THEM BOTH UP YOU PUT THE PEEPS IN THE CHILI POT AND ADD THE M&MS! COME ON! DIP YOU PAWS IN MY CHILI! SCOOP YOUR LITTLE MITTENS RIGHT IN THE STEW!
“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.
