Mercury Fur

Synopsis

A derelict flat in a derelict estate in the East End of London. Two teenage boys smash through the door and start to prepare the flat for some kind of party, their language peppered with a lively chaos of people and events from history. In their version of world events JFK used to be President and married to a blond tart called Marilyn Monroe who he took to Germany where Hitler tried to give it her up the arse so JFK got the hump and dropped a couple of atom bombs turning all the Germans into chinkies... As more characters arrive, this dark and visceral play gets more sinister as we realise the exact nature of the party's main attraction.

Our Review:

30 March 2012

In an abandoned and trashed flat, sometime not too far in the future, Elliot (Ciarán Owens) and Darren (Frank C Keogh) prepare for the party from hell. Elliot is tough but clever, still in possession of historical knowledge that can inform their present, but his traumatised younger brother’s mind is full of warped versions of the past, exacerbated by his need to ingest butterflies, beautiful creatures recalibrated in playwright Philip Ridley’s world as menacing drugs.

Pretty, skinny Naz (Olly Alexander) shows up, exemplifying corrupted innocence, and we learn more about this post-apocalyptic situation. These young people have witnessed the torture and killing of those they love by marauding gangs, and know that no-one is safe anymore. To survive, they have to adopt the morals of the bad guys. The ‘party’ is in aid of making a snuff-movie for a rich, perverted City suit who has information which could ...

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Latest User Review

steveatplays - 6 April 2012:

See this, see this! This is brutally urgent, astonishingly affecting, horrifying yet deeply moral theatre. If you are the sort of person who can't bear a horror film, this will be too much for you. But otherwise, go! In the embarrassment of riches offered by Philip Ridley to London theatre this year (including his ingenious murder mystery, Shivered, at Southwark, and his fantastical psycho-drama, Pitchfork Disney, at Arcola), this revival of Mercury Fur is the unmissable one, the one most likely to change you in some way, the one most likely to make you see the world anew. And even if it doesn't do that, it will give you a visceral thrill, and the privilege of seeing a towering acting ensemble, uniformly of Olivier awards calibre, in a truly intimate setting. There are no false notes from any of the performances, and no lulls in the story-telling. Right now, a dystopian sci-fi fantasy about humans hunting humans, The Hunger Games, is dominating the world box office. This production makes The Hunger Games look like Play School! Mercury Fur's moral questions about what you would do to survive in horrific circumstances, what fictions you would tell yourself to avoid the depressing reality, what drugs you would take to blot away your conscience are far more prescient than anything in The Hunger Games. The acting is superlative. Olly Alexander is unforgettable as Naz, his moment to moment affectionate, tactile, pleasure-seeking and slavish reality, not only completely convincing, but recognisable to me in the behaviour of people around me every day. Ciaran Owens and Frank C. Keogh are great as brothers, the space they give (and deny) each other to live and breathe and think feels utterly authentic. The actors playing Lola and the Duchess evince great tenderness portraying characters who cannot face the horror of the present, Lola preferring to physically retreat, whereas the Duchess psychically retreats into childlike fantasy. It's all so touching (the production makes you care about characters you might easily loathe), and the devastation of James Turner's apocalyptic room gradually grabs you until you are trembling by the end of the play. This is one not to be missed! (Incidentally, this was my first time at the Old Red Lion, and I didn't understand the ticketing system, so I made conversation with a bloke who had been to the Lion before to get to grips with the situation. Amusingly, the helpful bloke later turned out to be Philip Ridley, when at the end of the play, the audience reconvened, he revealed himself and read a selection of his prescient poetry with an immediacy and impact puts most spoken word poetry to shame. I am a numpty). :)...

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