THE BOUNDS at the Royal Court

★★★

“The stakes in The Bounds are high, and there’s more than the outcome of a soccer game at risk”

The Bounds is an ambitious attempt to create a historical drama out of the origins of soccer. It’s a well chosen subject, given that the game has been a national obsession for centuries. And it’s no great stretch to imagine a form of the soccer that included a pitch that could stretch for miles, a match that could last days, and players willing to risk their lives for a chance to bring immortal glory to their team. Playwright Stewart Pringle also includes a sketched in backdrop of Tudor politics, both spiritual and secular, and a sprinkling of apocalyptic visions. That’s the gist of The Bounds, now on at the Royal Court’s Theatre Upstairs.

The Bounds begins well. We are introduced to Percy and Rowan, a couple of working class soccer players, who are determined that this will be the year that their village of Allendale finally triumphs over their arch rivals in Catton. The fact that they haven’t won in a long time does not deter their enthusiasm. Or the fact that they are on the outer peripheries of the game, miles from any action. As the good natured banter between Percy and his friend Rowan continues, we realize that these two are more like soccer fans in the stands, than players in the game. That’s Tudor soccer for you. When a third character, a classic outsider both in dress and address, enters, these two are naturally suspicious. And, this being Tudor times, accusations of witchcraft, popery and perversion start flying. When Samuel admits that he’s a college graduate (from Oxford, no less) he doesn’t help his case. Percy and Rowan, well educated in the signs of omens and portents, know that he is bad news, for all his educated ways. In this mismatched trio, all the rivalries of north versus south, working class versus middle class, and Protestantism versus Catholicism, come spilling out in a variety of ugly ways. What has all this to do with soccer? It’s a good question.

Unfortunately, the broad brush of Pringle’s own vision for his play is hampered by the fact that he has to work within the confines of a small space in the Theatre Upstairs, and with only four actors. These constraints wouldn’t have stopped the playwrights of the Tudor era, but we are in a less poetic age (in drama, at least). Where iambic pentameter could sketch a world in a few lines, we moderns tend to rely on the overuse of monosyllabic expletives. Pringle’s pared down dialogue and sketched in characters are entertaining, but with such serious subject matter as soccer and politics under discussion, the inventiveness in this piece starts to run out a while before the end of the play. Rather like the soccer game that the trio are observing.

The stakes in The Bounds are high, and there’s more than the outcome of a soccer game at risk. And that’s really where The Bounds ends up. It turns out that there are more important things than soccer games going on in Allendale. Pringle almost casually introduces us to the theme of boundaries being redrawn in The Bounds, but this is the masterstroke of Tudor strategy that echoes down the centuries, robbing local people of their spaces, and even their identities. It’s easy to see how the limitless game of soccer in Tudor times becomes the rule bound play of the modern game, confined within a single pitch of a predetermined size, and time constraints that don’t allow much flexibility. Pringle suggests that the unstructured nature of the ancient game had more freedom, despite the anarchy of play.

The actors, Soroosh Lavasani (Samuel), Ryan Nolan (Percy), Lauren Waine (Rowan) and Harry Weston (the Boy) bring an energetic presence to The Bounds. Ryan Nolan in particular, as a native Geordie, is completely at home both with the dialect and passion for the game. His versatility as a performer keeps the play focused, especially when it is in danger of drifting. Lauren Waine’s Rowan as the foil to Ryan Nolan’s Percy, is equally confident, and it is a delight to watch them play off against each other. If Soroosh Lavasani’s Samuel is less certain, it’s an accurate depiction of the place his character inhabits in Tudor society. A little education with a lot of religious indoctrination can be a dangerous thing, and Samuel proves that in spades. Harry Weston’s part may be small, but he carries the future in his lines, and his confident delivery as the Boy sounds the knell for the autonomy of folk like Percy. Jack McNamara’s direction keeps the action on the move, even within such a confined space.

Pringle’s drama is bold in its inception. If it doesn’t quite measure up to its opening promise, it may be that The Bounds needs a space, and a cast, as large as the Whitsuntide match between Allendale and Catton in the mid sixteenth century.

THE BOUNDS at the Royal Court

Reviewed on 17th Jun e2024

by Dominica Plummer

Photography by Von Fox Promotions

Previously reviewed at this venue:

LIE LOW | ★★★★ | May 2024

BLUETS | ★★★ | May 2024

GUNTER | ★★★★ | April 2024

COWBOIS | ★★★★★ | January 2024

MATES IN CHELSEA | ★★★ | November 2023

CUCKOO | ★★½ | July 2023

BLACK SUPERHERO | ★★★★ | March 2023

FOR BLACK BOYS … | ★★★★★ | April 2022

THE BOUNDS

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★★★★

“Charlotte McCurry’s Faye, and Thomas Finnegan’s Naoise perform a believably close pair of siblings, bound together by childhood games that seem innocent, until they’re not”

Ciara Elizabeth Smyth’s Lie Low arrives at the Royal Court’s Theatre Upstairs with plenty of trigger warnings. The company has also included a helpful guide on how to tackle a play that deals with trauma arising from sexual assault, should you need it. It’s true that Lie Low ventures into territory that might awaken all our darkest fears. But there’s also a lot of charm, humour and playful energy in Smyth’s script, and performers Charlotte McCurry and Thomas Finnegan make the most of their opportunities.

In Lie Low we are introduced to Faye, who has been unable to sleep since a terrifying home invasion. She invites her brother Naoise home to help her. Naoise, for some reason, has been reluctant to visit, and almost a year has passed before he finally arrives on her doorstep. In the meantime, Faye has been visiting doctors. Her life has become confined—and a discordant jumble of episodes of manic dancing with an enigmatic figure with a duck’s head that emerges sporadically from her mother’s wardrobe. Faye appears outwardly sane and in control to the current doctor she’s seeing, but it’s clear that, psychologically, she’s falling apart. She thinks her brother can help because he’s the only man she can trust. Using something called exposure therapy that Faye has found on the web, she invites Naoise to become the man who assaulted her so that she can confront him, and fight back. Understandably, Naoise is very reluctant to take on this role. We find that he has compelling reasons unrelated to Faye’s trauma, to resist her request.

Smyth has given us a great set up. As the play proceeds, and Faye and Naoise’s close sibling relationship unravels dance step by dance step, we respond with an uneasy mix of amusement and horror. And it’s not just the subject matter that brings such complicated reactions to the fore. There is something inherently untrustworthy about our protagonist. Faye’s troubled recollections of what actually happened on the night she was assaulted are echoed in Naoise’s recollections of their childhood. Who assaults, and who is assaulted? In Lie Low, the answer to this question is shrouded in ambiguity. Hazy recollections of childhood games, and later, drunken parties and their aftermath, take us further into the territory of unwanted questions and their messy answers.

Oisín Kearney’s direction and Ciaran Bagnall’s set and lighting heighten the feeling of ambiguity. There is irony in Bagnall’s strongly defined set—a carpet marking the playing space, and the brooding wardrobe at the back of the set. There’s also a standing lamp, but it’s small, and doesn’t illuminate much. Any light from the lamp is further obscured by a pair of Faye’s panties that are draped over the shade for much of the play. Sharp angles and light concealed—perfect metaphors for the drama that is unfolding before our eyes. Similarly, Charlotte McCurry’s Faye, and Thomas Finnegan’s Naoise perform a believably close pair of siblings, bound together by childhood games that seem innocent, until they’re not. McCurry’s Faye is in control—and it’s fascinating to watch how, in contrast, Finnegan’s Naoise comes undone. And that raises further unsettling questions about Faye’s trip into madness and insomnia, and the success of her return to sanity, and sleep.

At seventy minutes, Lie Low feels quite short. But there’s also a sense that there’s just enough material in this play to show the wisdom in calling it quits when it does. The energy of the performers keep it on track. They keep us focused from moment to moment. But there is something unrealized about Smyth’s script and the questions it raises. When the energy is gone, and the lights are out, what demons are still hiding in that wardrobe, waiting to emerge

Tag Archives: Dominica Plummer

THE BOUNDS

★★★

Royal Court

THE BOUNDS at the Royal Court

★★★

“The stakes in The Bounds are high, and there’s more than the outcome of a soccer game at risk”

THE BOUNDS at the Royal Court