Tag Archives: Martin McDonagh

Poldarker

THE LIEUTENANT OF INISHMORE

Noel Coward Theatre, London, Saturday 14th July, 2018

 

This revival of Martin McDonagh’s 1993 play is a showcase for the Oscar-winning writer’s talent and also for leading man Aidan Turner – Ross Poldark himself.  Fans of Poldark flocking to the Noel Coward theatre to be in the presence of the handsome hunk will find very different fare on offer.  The setting is a rustic dwelling (hardly Nampara) in the Irish countryside – instead of Cornish vistas, there is a stylised representation of greenery, a tree that seems almost topographical, painted on a curtain.  Rivalries, betrayals, violence… All of these are heightened for comic effect, and this is a very funny play indeed.  Less Poldark and more Quentin Tarantino does Father Ted or Sam Peckinpah tackling Mrs Brown’s Boys.  The humour is blacker than a pint of Guinness.

The killing of a cat is the trigger for the action.  The puss in question belongs to wild-eyed Padraic (Turner) a freedom-fighter and vigilante, who interrupts his torture of a hapless drug pusher (Brian Martin) to receive news of ‘Wee Thomas’s’ welfare – and it is in these moments we see the character in all his madness, from his matter-of-fact sadism to the sentimental depth of his attachment to his only friend.  Turner is screamingly funny, and while his bloodied white singlet shows off his well-turned arms and shoulders, the character is much to monstrous to be attractive and swoon-worthy.  Turner has a credible intensity to his fanaticism; volatile and yet pragmatic, his Padraic is as scary as he is funny.

The rest of the cast are equally good.  McDonagh doles out the funny lines even-handedly, and each character is touched with a particular madness of his or her own.  Padraic’s dad, Donny (Denis Conway) to whom the care of the cat is entrusted while Padraic is off trying to bomb chip shops, has his otherwise better judgment skewed by drink; young Davey (Chris Walley) a mulleted Motorhead fan who rides a pink bicycle, is the scapegoat for the cat’s demise, gifted with his own brand of logic, founded in idiocy.  The imposing and sinister Christy (Will Irvine) out for vengeance for the eye he lost to Padraic’s crossbow, accompanied by henchmen Joey and Brendan (Julian Moore-Clark and Daryl McCormack) have some darkly funny exchanges – it is Irvine who exudes the most menace, despite our gleeful horror at Padraic’s excesses.  Charlie Murphy’s boyish, cow-blinding Mairead shows how deep the madness infects the population, where adherence to a cause overrides sanity.  She and Padraic seem to share a moral code, centred on a mutual love of cats, and so it is not surprising when they form an alliance.

Christopher Oram’s cosy cottage set throws the decidedly un-cosy conduct of the characters into stark relief.  The gore and violence of the faction are at odds with the chintzy diddly-diddly-dee of Oirish country life.   Director Michael Grandage balances tension with the comedy, ensuring his cast deliver McDonagh’s relentless punchlines with exquisite timing, wringing the laughter from the audience, along with the shocks and the schlock as the action escalates.

Post-peace process, the play is perhaps now a warning of what Ireland could become again, when the lunacy of Brexit kicks in.  More generally, it’s a stark demonstration of the kind of things people will kill and be killed for, with the unlucky black cat as a metaphor for what drives the murderous pursuits of the misguided.  Violence is an answer, the play says, but it’s the wrong answer.

An exhilarating production of one of the funniest plays I’ve seen in a long time.  Hail, McDonagh!  Hail, Turner!  Hail bullets… well, perhaps not that last one.

johan persson lieutenant of inishmore

Gun show: Aidan Turner as Padraic (Photo: Johan Persson)

 

 

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Bedtime Gories

THE PILLOWMAN
Crescent Theatre, Birmingham, Thursday 5th April, 2012


A man sits blindfolded in a police interrogation room as the audience file in. “Take it off; it looks stupid,” snaps the detective who will lead the questioning.

So begins Martin McDonagh’s poisoned chocolate box of a play. The interrogation teases out information and gradually more is revealed to the audience as well as the suspect, the oddly named Katurian Katurian (middle name, Katurian). He is a writer of tales so twisted Roald Dahl might baulk but, even in the totalitarian state in which he resides, that is not a crime, as such. The trouble is someone had been killing small children in ways inspired by Katurian’s stories. Worse than that, his retarded elder brother has confessed, apparently under duress, to carrying out the killings.

The interrogation is broken up with recitals and dramatisations of some of the stories. The Brothers Grimm would have nightmares.

It’s a grim subject, child-killing. But the violence in the stories and the copycat crimes is so bizarre, so removed from real life atrocities, we are able to be sickened, fascinated and amused all at once.

Andrew Cowie is superb as Detective Tupolski, striding around like a skeletal Bill Nighy. He is purportedly the ‘bad cop’ to Brian Wilson’s wonderfully thuggish ‘good cop’ Ariel. They are a formidable double act who play the suspect like a fiddle.

As Katurian Katurian, the excellent Mark Tracey holds the play together, carrying most of the emotional weight as well as narrating most of the stories. He is an appealing figure, the writer oppressed by the state, desperate to see his work survive after his inevitable execution. He has charm, vulnerability and humanity – we want him to be acquitted.

But this is not really a play about tyranny and dictatorships. This has more to do with the culture of blame, so you think, of blaming seemingly inexplicable acts of violence on something the perpetrator saw or read or played. This argument only goes so far: it turns out Katurian’s dimwit brother actually did kill the kids. The play offers up the idea of troubled childhoods making for troubled adults – and indeed Katurian’s and brother Michal’s upbringing was far from idyllc, but, as Tupolski observes, “My father was a violent alcoholic. Am I a violent alcoholic? Well, yes, I am but that’s a matter of personal choice.”

Jonny Wright’s Michal is an innocent with blood (and green paint) on his hands, following his own twisted logic. It’s a well-observed portrayal and, of course, very funny. Gemma Kenny gives lively support as a “Little Girl”.

The play is in itself a story, one of Katurian’s twisted tales and like the others, is open to interpretation. Liam Tombs’s production is engaging, gripping and very entertaining. I cannot fault it.

It’s the funniest play about child murders you will ever see.