Ulster American

An insufferably banal American movie star arrives at the London warehouse apartment of a fawning director to meet the author of a seemingly controversial play about Northern Ireland, in which he’s to star.  Rehearsals start tomorrow, but each has an entirely different take on the play – and soon on each other.

Ulster playwright David Ireland delivers a slick witty satire around some sharp issues – Brexit, political violence and national identity, celebrity, blackmail and social media, and after #MeToo, how men who now sprout feminism can still sport the same sexisms.

The actor Jay (Jeremy Waters) may posture as a West Coast liberal but his egocentricity and ribald, persistent waffle suggests otherwise. It’s a delight watching Brian Meegan, as the mealy-mouthed gentleman director, trying to applaud what little of Jay’s meaning he can comprehend.  Then somehow the banter turns uncomfortably to rape.

This and other secrets (around Irish identity) turn explosive soon after the arrival from Ulster of Ruth (Harriet Gordon-Anderson), who’s a professionally uncertain playwright but with great female fortitude.  Ultimately much of her play’s issues - and violence - are played out between the three.

Shane Anthony’s immaculately paced production skips through all these contemporary tangles of identity in a production that’s provocative and hilarious, satirical yes, but played true by three fine actors.  We laugh lots, sometimes even naughtily, as PC fences are trampled.

All is played out on Veronique Bennett’s handsomely modish and well-lit set. Ireland’s play is a light, if delightful, smorgasbord of topicalities and current tropes, but accusations of misogyny is what really drives it to conclusion, even if it’s a glib ending.  

It’s worth seeing.

Martin Portus

Photographer: Richard Farland