Shooting Rats
“What
is rubbish?” is the central question posed by this new version of a 1967 play
by Austrian playwright Peter Turrini, directed by Dan Barnard and Rachel
Briscoe. A boy and girl turn up for a date at a desolate rubbish tip in
Bromley, South London (each production of the play has to be specific to its
location) and proceed to strip away, literally, the artifice of modern life and
modern relationships.
Years
ago Michael Barrymore had an act where he picked on a random female member of
the audience and emptied her handbag, item by item. It was excruciatingly
embarrassing for the lady in question (the inevitable pack of three made an
appearance) but somehow passed as good-humoured entertainment. The same
procedure takes place between the two protagonists of this play, but in this
case the object is not the humour of embarrassment but a metaphorical exercise
in the evaluation (or devaluation) of society.
Evie
(Sarah Savage) considers herself to be “a lady” and would much rather be wined
and dined in a smart restaurant in Notting Hill, but her date, Ads (Peter
Bray), chooses to bring her to his special private place, where he shoots rats
for relaxation, and challenges her to liberate herself by throwing away
everything she doesn’t really need. The script is overly burdened with
metaphor, sags under the weight of its own importance, and would flounder
horribly halfway through but for the strength of the performances. Savage is mesmerising
as Evie, capturing all the pert frowstiness of a girl on a night out who
doesn’t want to appear too cheap, while Bray embodies the weary complacency of
a young man who questions everything but has the answer to nothing.
A
particular oddity is that when it comes to discarding not just their credit
cards, jewellery and cash, but their clothes as well, they are both revealed as
sporting very ungainly, mottled body suits with built-in flab. Is this to
signify the imperfection of everything, even beautiful youth, or simply a
device to prevent them spending the last fifth of the play stark naked? At
least it allows the actors to ritualise the culmination of their relationship
in a beguiling and exciting form of free dance.
The
acoustics of a former school hall are unhelpful to the evening, but these two
performances have an immediacy and a naturalness that override all other
concerns.
Giles
Cole
