Tag Archives: Royal Court

MANHUNT

★★★★

Royal Court

MANHUNT

Royal Court

★★★★

“Samuel Edward-Cook’s performance is a tour-de-force”

Behind a metallic, gauze curtain a figure paces back and forth. Shaven headed. His shadow follows him across the vertical wall of the translucent screen – a projected alter ego pursuing its prey, fuelling the claustrophobic motions of the man’s repetitive circuit. His behaviour is erratic yet painfully routine. It’s like watching a captive animal through the bars of a zoo’s enclosure.

A flash of brilliant white light releases him to tell his story. It’s a story that dominated the front pages and caught the public imagination during the summer of 2010. That of the major police operation across Tyne and Wear – the manhunt for fugitive Raoul Moat. The ex-prisoner was on the run for nearly a week after a killing spree, ending with a six-hour standoff with armed police and Moat’s suicide. It was a story that landed in the lap of journalist Andrew Hankinson whose subsequent book inspired Robert Icke’s brutal and challenging one-act play. The overriding word on our lips is ‘why?’

“Manhunt” doesn’t offer any answers, but it poses the question from every angle, looking at the horrific events through the eyes of the victims and the perpetrator, often begging us to ask which is which. Icke’s writing and direction steer the narrative in a cyclical fashion, swinging between flashbacks and the present. It is often Kafkaesque in its approach as Moat fights a system he believes has been against him since birth. Whether we are supposed to be or not, we are drawn into Moat’s own tragedy as much as his victim’s which is unsettling to say the least. Samuel Edward-Cook’s performance is a tour-de-force that reinforces this with a warped honesty as he tries to justify himself. All the while he is surrounded by figures from his past and present: the judges and juries that accuse him of hitting his daughter; the ex-partner; his childhood self, locked in his room by his unstable mother; the father he never knew; social workers; friends, accomplices and detractors, and most importantly his victims. A poignant extended blackout heightens a first-hand account from a police officer he randomly shot and blinded in a cold-hearted act of revenge.

The supporting cast who play the multiple roles are as equally compelling as Edward-Cook, if not as frightening. This could well have been a one man show along the lines of the recent ‘Kenrex’, which follows similar themes, but the ensemble here fleshes out the account and adds a distinct and welcome light and shade. There is occasional confusion during moments when we are unsure that what we are witnessing is in Moat’s mind or in reality. Hallucinations overlap real life too often, yet it all adds to the unease, and we are constantly left unsure who to believe. So rather than collude with anybody we end up trusting no one. An unsatisfactory and dangerous position to be in, but one that maybe Icke is trying to spotlight.

Danger is an undercurrent that bursts to the surface constantly. Edward-Cook’s manic, wild-eyed stare cements this. He is a drowning man watching his life flash before him. Azusa Ono’s lighting evokes the episodes with haunting atmosphere, from the coldness of a prison cell to the campfire warmth of his last hiding place in the Northumbrian countryside. Here Moat talks to fellow Geordie, Paul Gascoigne before confronting his estranged father and being consoled by a doting grandmother. It is all unreal, but it helps him unearth the truth of his nature. There is only one conclusion. Justice takes a back seat while cause and effect – action and reaction – take centre stage.

At the time, Moat was famously labelled a ‘callous murderer… end of story’. Which is arguably the case. This play appears to challenge that assumption, but Icke’s writing is as ambiguous as the history as he tries to dig deeper. But there is no avoiding the fact that Moat was a big, strong man who used violence against those who were weaker than him. He lied, he lacked control, and he tried to justify his actions that ruined and ended lives. It is not a good story. However, Icke turns it into a breath-taking piece of theatre. We might wonder why he chose to do so, but we are enthralled and disturbed by the experience, and the performances will stick in our minds for quite a while. A gripping production. End of story.

MANHUNT

Royal Court

Reviewed on 8th April 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Manuel Harlan

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

A GOOD HOUSE | ★★★★ | January 2025
THE BOUNDS | ★★★ | June 2024
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

MANHUNT

MANHUNT

MANHUNT

A GOOD HOUSE

★★★★

Royal Court

A GOOD HOUSE

Royal Court

★★★★

“The performances and the dynamics are gripping”

The time is now. The setting is the evocatively named small town of Stillwater which, we are told is located ‘wherever that may be’. Although it is clear we are in South Africa. But switch the accents and we could be anywhere in the world; from the Redneck belt of the Southern US to a provincial English backwater. The poignancy that oozes from Amy Jephta’s one act play, “A Good House”, is universal. The smalltown sensibilities that fester unchecked on a microscope slide are magnified into a thrilling and acerbic dissection of community politics. Bitter, sweet, dangerous and funny; it challenges and twists our expectations.

Sihle (Sifiso Mazibuko) and Bonolo (Mimî M Khayisa) are new to the area. They are getting to know relative old timers Chris (Scott Sparrow) and Lynette (Olivia Darnley). It is, in fact, two years since Sihle and Bonolo moved to the neighbourhood: a telling fact. A brief, highly charged prologue precedes the opening scenes in which Sihle and Chris first meet each other under different circumstances. It sets up the dynamics and highlights the innate and institutionalised racism that is embedded in the tarmac of the residents’ matching driveways. We think we are in Mike Leigh territory for a moment. Wine is slowly (alas too slowly) poured and polite conversation trips over awkward faux pas. But Jephta pulls it out by the scruff of the neck, while Nancy Medina’s direction cracks the whip, drives out the Pinteresque pauses and sends it galloping off through the overlapping dialogue.

Sparrow’s Chris is clumsily ‘right on’ and obsequious in the extreme. We quickly know that he can’t be trusted. Similarly, Darnley’s over-eager Lynette is a Cape Town Sloane Ranger – if such a thing exists. Sihle and Bonolo have sussed them out. A freeze-frame device intermittently sets certain characters in suspended animation while the others are free to vent the true feelings that lie hidden beneath the chit chat. The performances and the dynamics are gripping. Mazibuko fills the stage with the imposing figure of Sihle, seemingly – and only initially – compliant with the reactions provoked by his skin colour and background. Khayisa’s portrayal of the no-nonsense Bonolo is a master stroke that surprises us with some refreshingly unexpected views on society and race.

In their suburban community, a mysterious shack has sprung up – the inhabitants nowhere to be seen. Speculation abounds as to who is responsible for this eyesore, and with this speculation the petty bigotry feeds on itself and multiplies. Andrew (Kai Luke Brummer) and Jess (Robyn Rainsford) are the couple most affected, the shack being on their doorstep. Brummer and Rainsford are a perfect match depicting the ‘perfect suburban couple’ – in other words gauche and full of gaffes, embarrassing indiscretions, bigotry and fanaticism.

The shack, although a real structure, is also clearly an allegory. The anonymity of its occupants is seen as being dangerous. Fear abounds, naturally. The writing and the performances ridicule and make a mockery of it all, quite rightly, but also highlight the conflicts and the tensions. The petty prejudices cut far deeper than overt racism. We get a real sense of the institutionalised racism that breeds in these small-town minds that, if left untended, can grow like knotweed.

“A Good House” is a very modern satire. Its façade is a comedy but behind its closed doors lies quite a different story. If I were you, I’d think twice about borrowing a cup of sugar in Stillwater. But I wouldn’t think twice about seeing the play. Just be prepared to find splinters of glass mixed in with the sugar.

 



A GOOD HOUSE

Royal Court

Reviewed on 17th January 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Camilla Greenwell

 

 

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

THE BOUNDS | ★★★ | June 2024
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

A GOOD HOUSE

A GOOD HOUSE

A GOOD HOUSE