Review: The Lieutenant of Inishmore by Martin McDonagh. Directed by Kurt Beattie. With Jeffrey Fracé, Seán G. Griffin, MJ Sieber, and Elise Hunt. Now through November 14 at ACT.
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| Jeffrey Fracé as Padraic and Elise Hunt as Mairead, in The Lieutenant of Inishmore by Martin McDonagh at ACT Theatre. Photo: Chris Bennion |
You can tell it’s October in TheaterLand. Every theater company in town is trotting out the goriest, most perverse plays in their repertoire, and half of them feature “Splatter Zones”. I’m guessing that the ingredients for stage blood, corn syrup and Red Dye #2, might be in short supply at your local Grocery Outlet…
And, ACT’s “The Lieutenant of Inishmore” is grabbing the lion’s share of that stock. Martin McDonagh’s blood soaked black comedy features gallons of the red stuff, not to mention three human corpses, two feline corpses, and untold severed limbs…you need a scorecard to keep track of the body parts littering the stage. (The program has a handy glossary to some of the Irish words and colloquialisms used in the play; they neglected to include the scorecard…) The story of an insane Irish assassin, (too extreme for the IRA; he’s banished to a more radical splinter group) and the vengeance he takes on behalf of his martyred cat “Wee Thomas”, “Inishmore” is a violently bloody and indigo black comedy about Irish nationalism, its tendency to violence and a vicious satire of Irish humor and comedic stereotypes. It is frequently very funny, teeters on the edge of disgusting and never quite lives up to its promise. Watching this play, I quickly went from hatred, to disgust, to irritation, to mild enjoyment and ended up rather disappointed. The Lieutenant of Inishmore is a ninety minute play that feels like an extended series of sketches on a BBC sketch comedy show like “Little Britain” or “The League of Gentlemen”. I probably would have enjoyed it more, if it had been split up into six 5 minute segments spread out over the course of a typical BBC series. It’s a one joke play that relies too much on comic gore, moronic characters and a somewhat clever denouement. The audience on opening night, laughed a lot; I didn’t, and I’m guessing the heartiest laughers haven’t experienced much in the way of over the top UK style gross out comedy. Or, maybe it was just the laughter of the damned.
I’m not a huge fan of McDonagh’s script; like I said, it plays like 30 minutes of sketch comedy but stretched out thrice as long. But, I think the production itself was at fault as well. One of the dangers in “Black” comedy is playing it too broadly, and I think director Kurt Beattie went a bit over the top with his staging and concept of the show. It’s too Looney Tunes/Three Stoogian; the humor is never given a chance to breathe and when given an option, this production chooses to dwell on the macabre instead of any subtext BEHIND the gore and comic mayhem. It’s a silly mess, literally and figuratively, as the bodies pile up and the yokels joke it up.
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| The Real McCoy and the best reason to see this play: Seán G. Griffin as Donny, in The Lieutenant of Inishmore by Martin McDonagh at ACT Theatre. Photo: Chris Bennion |
And the yokels are in high spirits in this production, and they do joke it up. The actors are having a grand ole time on stage and bully for them, but they could have used a little rein on their hijinks. A little comic under playing and a hint of deadpan would have done this show a world of good. Of the seven actors in this production, I can only give high marks to authentic Irishman Seán G. Griffin, as the mad assassin’s daft father Donny, and Elise Hunt as the terrorist groupie in love with the killer, Padraic. Both actors resist the urge to go over the top, and ground their larger than life characters with some reality. Mr Griffin has delighted Seattle audiences for many years, and he is a huge asset to this production, (he’s played this role many times before) but his casting does point out a weakness in the rest of the cast. His authentic Irish accent doesn’t blend with the not so authentic accents of most of the other actors. A good rule of thumb for actors: never act with kids, animals or actors that authentically have the accent you are trying to attempt…
As for the the other two major roles in the play, and the actors that portray them, I was less impressed. I’m a big fan of MJ Sieber and he is very funny in this show, but I think he’s about 20% too far over the top as the dimwitted neighbor Davey. He makes a fine comedic partner with Mr Griffin but I wished he had played down some of the character’s doofishness. Davey definitely has a borderline I.Q. but not a sub-normal one. And, Jeffrey Fracé as the crazy assassin is supposed to be scary and a threat but Mr Fracé never convinces us that he is a feared killer. He’s funny and plays the comedy, but not the menace, and the character is supposed to BE menacing. His Padraic is a flaccid pretty boy, all surface and mirrors and blarney and I never once believed he could kill anything stronger than a pint of Guinness.
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| Bloody, bloody Martin McDonagh…The cast of The Lieutenant of Inishmore by Martin McDonagh at ACT Theatre. Photo: Chris Bennion |
Technically, I wasn’t overly impressed with this production. The set is too cutesy-pootsy and “Brigadoon” for my taste and the lighting too bright and comedic. And, at one point, part of the stage rises quite dramatically and blocks off the view of the main part of the set and it’s technically impressive and you wonder, “what does this signify?”, but the set piece quickly lowers and we soon realize that the only reason for this dramatic display of hydraulics was to enable the stage hands to redress the main set with a lot of gore and mannequins. It was clunky and odd staging.
Who’s this play for? Gore hounds; lover’s of black comedy and Irish humor. Fans of the darker British sketch coms like “League of Gentlemen”. I wasn’t bored during this production, and I was moderately entertained, but the laughs are a bit cheap and the play has potential to be much more than a comedic gorefest. Seattle audiences are sophisticated enough to take a little menace and subtext and meaning with their gallons of Karo Syrup, assorted stage mannequins and Archie McPhee rubberized cat guts. We’re not that fecking stoopid.
– Michael Strangeways
