Tag Archives: Dominica Plummer

LIE LOW

★★★★

Royal Court Theatre

LIE LOW at the Royal Court

★★★★

“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


LIE LOW at the Royal Court

Reviewed on 28th May 2024

by Dominica Plummer

Photography by Ciaran Bagnall

 

 

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

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

LIE LOW

LIE LOW

Click here to see our Recommended Shows page

 

THE HUMAN BODY

★★★

Donmar Warehouse

THE HUMAN BODY at the Donmar Warehouse

★★★

“this is a play that promises much and fails, ultimately, to deliver”

Lucy Kirkwood’s new play The Human Body is a complex creation, not unlike the human body itself. Michael Longhurst and Ann Yee’s stylish direction makes many pretty pictures of the bodies on stage from this overly length piece. They have assembled a talented cast, lead by Keeley Hawes and Jack Davenport. Cinematic touches, created by onstage videographers, and clever screening of the images, give a touch of glamour to the proceedings. But the overall effect is to remind us that we are not in the cinema, watching a sharp edged black and white movie, but in a theatre, watching a play that is just out of focus.

Set in 1946, the same year that Parliament passed the National Health Service Act, The Human Body is a timely reminder of what an enormous difference free health care made to Second World War exhausted Britain. GP Iris Elcock, (Keeley Hawes) and her disabled war veteran husband Julian (Tom Goodman-Hill) are attempting to rebuild their marriage in much the same way that the rest of the country is attempting to rebuild. Which is to say—they are outwardly supportive of each other as Iris juggles her household responsibilities with her medical practice, and her political ambitions. Presented as an outwardly successful, New Look woman, It’s in the interior spaces of home, her GP practice, and later, a railway carriage, that all Iris’ juggling comes off the rails.

Echoes of the British movie Brief Encounter allows playwright Kirkwood an attempt at some of the glamour and powerful, yet repressed emotions captured so well in director David Lean’s classic. But The Human Body is less about the passionate affair Iris has with actor George as a result of a chance encounter in a railway carriage. It’s more about her boundless ambition to be in Parliament. Kirkwood’s play isn’t even about the passing of the National Health Act, despite the occasional reference to Aneurin Bevan, who spearheaded the passing of the Act. The Human Body is ultimately about Iris—seen from every angle, thanks to the presence of those videographers on stage. We see Iris attempt the impossible. To be a wife, mother, successful career woman, politician, and lover to George. When we see Iris fail to manage all these roles, even her assistance in supporting the passage of the National Health Act, isn’t quite enough to salvage The Human Body. No amount of brilliant acting, stylish direction, and onstage videographic wizardry can overcome a script that fails to give an audience some sense of catharsis.

 

 

Yet Keeley Hawes manages to keep Iris a fully rounded character despite the shortcomings of the script. She is ably supported by fellow actors Jack Davenport and Tom Goodman-Hill. Jack Davenport’s portrayal of George is particularly noteworthy. He manages to reveal George the man with a complex family life, lurking beneath the film actor’s polished charm. Tom Goodman-Hill has the thankless task of portraying Julian, Iris’ resentful husband, but succeeds in making Julian sympathetic nonetheless. He, along with Pearl Mackie and Siobhán Redmond take on a host of other roles as well. Together these seasoned actors bring energy and a sense of ever-changing drama to The Human Body.

Nevertheless, The Human Body cannot decide whether it is a play, or a film. Kirkwood writes the script as though it were a screenplay, but bringing on bits of furniture, endless props, often held by stagehands while the actors use them, simply serve to remind the audience that film can manage all these complicated changes of location simply by saying “Cut!” and moving on. If one tries to change the location in the theatre on stage, it merely looks clunky. In Iris and George’s passionate encounters, the camera is an intrusive third party, no matter how beautiful the images captured on the screen above the actors. What’s happening on stage is a messy distraction, and even good lighting and snatches of Rachmaninov’s lovely music cannot help the actors establish the same intimacy when there’s a camera in the way. There is a profound difference in the ways that theatre achieves its magic on stage, and film on the screen, and The Human Body is a very good lesson in why that is.

It says much for the skills of the actors that the playing time of The Human Body passes as quickly as it does. Fans of Keeley Hawes and Jack Davenport will not be disappointed. But this is a play that promises much and fails, ultimately, to deliver.

 


THE HUMAN BODY at the Donmar Warehouse

Reviewed on 28th February 2024

by Dominica Plummer

Photography by Marc Brenner

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

LOVE AND OTHER ACTS OF VIOLENCE | ★★★★ | October 2021

 

THE HUMAN BODY

THE HUMAN BODY<

Click here to see our Recommended Shows page