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Billy Carter and Michael Legge |
Irish sons march into heaven
OBSERVE THE SONS OF ULSTER MARCHING TOWARDS THE SOMME
HAMPSTEAD THEATRE
“AGAIN. As always, again. Why does this persist? What more have we to tell each other?” The old war veteran (James Hayes) who opens Frank McGuinness’s foreboding First World War drama refers, with these lines, to the ghostly visits of his comrades in arms; but he could equally be talking about Hampstead Theatre’s decision to revive the play.
Observe has been chosen, as part of the theatre’s 50th year anniversary season, on the strength of its success at the venue the first time around, in 1986. One must be wary of this logic. In 1986, Bananarama were superstars and the polls were in Mrs Thatcher’s favour. And most significantly for McGuinness, who starts the play looking back from the eighties, The Troubles in Northern Ireland were at their bloody peak. There is no contemporary equivalent to pin the drama to this time. The devout, tortured loyalties to God and country, so strong in the men of the 36th Ulster Division, are barely present in the troops now fighting in the Middle East.
By and large, McGuinness’s memory play is strong enough to stand on its own two feet, regardless of context.
His eight country boy recruits are stoked with Protestant fervour and hometown pride, though insecurities and contradictions nestle beneath the big talk and blarney.
There is the preacher who can no longer see the difference between himself and God; and the group’s “heroic” leader, Kenneth Pyper, who only signed up to be killed and escape his sins.
Seven of the eight will not survive the Somme – those odds are a historical fact. Richard Dormer, in an unusual, enjoyable performance as the “rare boy” Pyper, is best served by McGuinness’s treatises on faith and death. The same language, however, can sound unwieldy and high-falutin in the mouths of the coarser soldiers.
The richness of the language threatens to overpower at times, but the recruits’ sincerity and unbroken sense of home imbue the final inevitable charge – the “leaving earth for air” – with a lyrical, unflinching power.
Until July 18
020 7722 9301 |
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