Ulster American

Ulster American is not so much a comedy of witty one-liners but a comedy of cringing embarrassment and wince making ego clashes.  You can’t quite believe what each of the characters has just said and you can’t look away because you know things can only get worse. 

The play is, if you like, a fast-moving seventy-minute sit-com – and I don’t mean that in any pejorative sense.  A really good sit-com (and this is one – except perhaps for the ending) takes real skill to construct and David Ireland does that with full conscious intent - albeit a sit-com with a fair dash of animus toward a certain kind of American, and a certain kind of Englishman too.

Throughout we’re in the modest apartment of theatre director Leigh Carver (David Whiteley).  Designer Louise McCarthy’s set pointedly suggests the man’s pretensions with the framed Soviet theatre posters and the sentimental paintings on the walls.  It’s the night before the first day of rehearsal of a new play by Northern Irish writer Ruth Davenport (Sarah Sutherland).  Jay Conway (Steve Bastoni), A-list American actor and Oscar winner indeed has come to Britain to play the lead.  He wants, he needs, to do something ‘real’, something that is not bullshit, something that is ‘art’.  Jay is an artist himself – just ask him – a man of great (if false) humility, a loud voice, and devastating honesty (with perhaps a tendency to over-share).  Oh, and also on the wagon - and a feminist.  Isn’t everyone?  Englishman Leigh Carver will do anything (almost) to keep Jay happy – that is, to ensure he does this play – but his attempts to play both sides against the middle will go astray. 

When playwright Ruth arrives all flustered, she’s star-struck and thrilled to bits that Jay wants to do her play – which he says is the greatest thing he’s ever read – because it’s true.  Even if his ‘true’ and Ruth’s ‘true’ are not quite the same thing…Thus, the set-up for the blustering, self-aggrandising, ego-tripping, horribly honest, horribly dishonest, misogynist, childish conflict which ensues.  Jay and Sarah entrench themselves in their misunderstanding and Leigh acts like the weasel he is to save the play – and his job.

Director Brett Cousins finds just the right pitch for all this – and his cast maintain that pitch without falter.  Three beautifully judged and contrasting performances.  Steve Bastoni, more recently renowned for playing heavies and dangerous men in general, here reveals a true talent for comedy.  He gives us a monster of a character, devoid of self-knowledge and who, under his fame and his aggressive sincerity, is an ignorant child with a massive ego.  Mr Whiteley’s Leigh is the perfect ‘English’ foil for this American phenomenon: he’s soft-spoken, understated, studiously polite – but cornered into revealing more than he intends.  Joining this awkward twosome comes catalyst playwright Ruth, the wild card and with her the stakes go up.  Ms Sutherland’s Northern Irish accent could be cut with a knife (thank you dialogue coach Matt Furlani) and her transition from gushing fangirl to bloody-minded warrior is another great comic performance that matches her colleagues.  

After all, these are not ‘characters’; they are types skilfully constructed for comedic and satiric purposes.  Serious issues (Northern Ireland, Brexit, Catholic versus Protestant, Irish versus British) are raised not to be dealt with but to spark comic conflict.  When it all ends in mayhem it is, of course, shocking and dreadful but very satisfying too.

Michael Brindley

Photographer: Teresa Noble