Tag Archives: Max Jones

Ulster American

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Riverside Studios

ULSTER AMERICAN at Riverside Studios

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“A play about crossing the line within a play that frequently crosses the line”

David Ireland’s β€œUlster American” touches on just about every topic that gets people’s blood boiling, and in the space of an hour and a half, inflates them in order to puncture them with the sharp skewer of satire that he has become famed for. Somewhere along the line during his career, Ireland has come to think that he wants to offend people. β€œAs a writer, I want to be socially irresponsible” he once stated in an interview about his latest offering. β€œIf you won’t produce it because of the reaction, that’s a very frightening place for us all to be in”. Fortunately for us, his play has been produced. It divided critics at its premiere in Edinburgh in 2018 and is now testing the waters in West London with Jeremy Herrin’s star-studded revival.

The premise is a joke. The old β€˜Englishman, Irishman and American’ variety. But that is the only thing it has in common. From the outset, the humour is considerably darker, and the punchline is jet black. Set in real time, the evening before rehearsals start for a new play in London, it brings the three key players together in a night that spirals out of control. Jay Conway (Woody Harrelson) is the Oscar-winning actor taking the lead in the play that connects with his Irish roots. Leigh Carver (Andy Serkis) is the ambitious director who will do anything to get noticed. Ruth Davenport (Louisa Harland) is the Northern Irish playwright whose voice must be heard.

Ruth is late for the meeting, and so we are greeted by the two men killing time by indulging in some shocking banter. Harrelson’s self-aggrandising Hollywood star, Jay, is definitely the alpha male while Serkis, as Leigh, hovers between alpha and beta, unsure when to let his obsequiousness make way for his own voice. Both men are β€˜feminists’, or so they say. Both men are deluded. But there is something far more dangerous going on than the mere misappropriation of language and self-appointed labels. And it takes Ruth not only to light the fuse, but also to detonate it. Many bombshells are dropped in the process, provoking the echoing thought in our minds; β€˜did they really just say that?’

“You might not want to look at it, but you ought to go and see this play”

The three actors are simply outstanding in their roles. Serkis skilfully deploys the many faces of a politician as he fluctuates between squirming smiles and contradictions, until his real temperament is revealed when he realises the game is up. Harrelson hilariously cuts a ridiculous figure, wielding male self-righteousness like a loaded firearm, while Ruth catches the bullets in her teeth to spit them back. Harland’s character, despite the play attempting to establish a precarious female centric quality, is perhaps the least likeable of the three. Initially starstruck at meeting an idol in Jay, we don’t quite believe her rapid and absolute switch to the dominant, immutable, writer-diva with the authority to dictate that not one word of her script can be altered. Come on, we’re dealing with an Oscar winning actor here!

Among the topics that are ripped apart are national and personal identity, religion, loyalty, power, misogyny, feminism, gender, responsibility, Brexit, politics, territory, the β€˜N’ word, #MeToo, culture, censorship, social media, rape, blackmail… you name it. But the focus is drawn back to the power balance between men and women. Words the two men carelessly let spill from their unfiltered mouths are later taken out of context and then used to make or break one another’s careers. Or lives. There is plenty of food for thought as the stakes get higher and higher, and these deplorable characters reach dizzying heights of ridicule. What is alarming, however, is the proximity to reality. The damage of misconstrued words is a genuine threat in our society.

β€œUlster American” is a play within a play. A play about crossing the line within a play that frequently crosses the line. The satire occasionally adopts an over-daubed, β€˜painting-by-numbers’ style. And the zeitgeist that Ireland vividly expresses gets somewhat washed away as the play dives headlong into farce, and the realms of cartoon barbarity. The violence is less shocking than the dialogue. Perhaps this is deliberate. Are words a more terrifying weapon than actions?

The three actors give thrilling performances that throw moral acceptances into the wind and let us pick up the pieces to try and make sense of them. It is insanely funny and deeply flawed. It will provoke discussion – even arguments, but hopefully not as extreme. You never know though. That is what is so vital about Ireland’s writing. Yes – it is heightened and unreal. But however warped, it is still a mirror to our fractured society. You might not want to look at it, but you ought to go and see this play.

 


ULSTER AMERICAN at Riverside Studios

Reviewed on 13th December 2023

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Johan Persson

 


 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

Othello | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2023
Flowers For Mrs Harris | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2023
Run to the Nuns – The Musical | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | July 2023
The Sun Will Rise | β˜…β˜…β˜… | July 2023
Tarantino Live: Fox Force Five & The Tyranny Of Evil Men | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | June 2023
Killing The Cat | β˜…β˜… | March 2023
Cirque Berserk! | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2023

Ulster American

Ulster American

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Sydney & The Old Girl

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Park Theatre

Sydney & The Old Girl

Sydney & The Old Girl

Park Theatre

Reviewed – 5th November 2019

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“a powerful, funny and uncomfortable watch”

 

Sydney & the Old Girl is one of two debut full-length plays by Irish playwright Eugene O’Hare. Directed by Phillip Breen, the play spotlights the miserable lives of the elderly Nell Stock (Miriam Margoyles) and her son Sydney (Mark Hadfield). Sydney, who has moved back into the family home temporarily, blames his mother for the death of his younger brother Bernie and Nell admits bluntly that her son β€œcreeps her out”. Nell’s cheery Irish carer Marion Fee (Vivien Parry) is caught in the middle of the pair, acting as a trump card for Nell to laud over her son and an object of romantic obsession for Sydney. The trio are all making careful steps towards coming out on top whether that financially, morally or purely to spite one another.

Nell and Sydney are both unreliable narrators and offer a consistently conflicting series of events. There initially appears to be nothing more than blind hatred between them but there are suggestions of something more complex: a dysfunctional co-dependency brought about through grief. The pair insulting one another does unfortunately often take precedence over exploring their relationship any deeper.

Margoyles shines throughout the performance. The audience will quickly forget that it is the famous thespian before them and be wholeheartedly convinced that she is in fact Nell. For example, Nell, confined to a wheelchair for most of the play, walks gingerly at the end of the performance. This elicited gasps from the audience who presumably forgot that Margoyles herself can walk just fine.

Hadfield is perfectly odd for the role of Sydney and he exudes an aura of tragic loneliness. He is decidedly unpleasant but, as with his relationship with Nell, it would be good if he had some more tender moments. There is a slither of sympathy for Nell implanted in the audience, but Sydney is not so complexly presented. As a plot point, it is a shame to see the all too familiar trope of a man fixating on a woman who he feels that he can open up to emotionally. Though this undoubtedly contributes to Sydney’s creepiness, it is thoroughly predictable.

Parry is a natural on stage and her first appearance bustling into Nell’s house is a particularly strong scene. Her development in the second half is unexpected which is a credit to Parry’s non-assuming nature. Marion also provides a much-needed break from the tension between warring mother and son.

The set (Max Jones and Ruth Hall) is wonderfully intimate creating a sense that the audience is privy to these awkward family exchanges. The audience looks onto a dated living room with a floral carpet and dark panelled walls with a front door on the right-hand side. An alcohol cabinet, a broken television set, an armchair and a small dining table fill the space. A small kitchen occupies the back left of the stage and a hallway leads off to the rest of the house. The space is used well, and the cast move around it confidently.

The lighting (Tina Mac Hugh) is excellent. The cold light of the early morning floods the set and the stage darkens gradually as night approaches. The flashing sirens of ambulances are also mimicked convincingly. There is a rather gratuitous projection show at the production’s end that would have perhaps worked better as a means of breaking up the performance mid-way rather than stand out so unnaturally at its finale.

Sydney & the Old Girl is a powerful, funny and uncomfortable watch. The acting is sublime, but a more nuanced exploration of the play’s characters and their relationships would be gladly welcomed.

 

Reviewed by Flora Doble

Photography by Pete Le May

 


Sydney & The Old Girl

Park Theatre until 30th November

 

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:
We’re Staying Right Here | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | March 2019
Hell Yes I’m Tough Enough | β˜…β˜…Β½ | April 2019
Intra Muros | β˜… | April 2019
Napoli, Brooklyn | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | June 2019
Summer Rolls | β˜…β˜…β˜…Β½ | June 2019
The Time Of Our Lies | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | August 2019
The Weatherman | β˜…β˜…β˜… | August 2019
Black Chiffon | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | September 2019
Mother Of Him | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | September 2019
Fast | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2019

 

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