Dark comedy is deeply touching
by BEVERLEY BROMMERT source TONIGHT
Rarely since the golden age of Oscar Wilde and George Bernard Shaw has a theatre script shown the epigrammatic sparkle characterising Morris Panych’ s Vigil, which one hesitates to term a twohander since 50 percent of the cast provides a mute, deadpan foil for the male lead’ s relentless monologue.
Throwaway line succeeds throwaway line to leave the audience slightly bemused at the plethora of witty paradoxes, and just when the latter’ s entertainment value is beginning to flag through predictability, the plot takes a sudden twist and the mood changes to inject fresh vitality into the drama.
Before any thespian has appeared on stage, the off-beat set( designed by talented Julia Anastasopoulos) gives some inkling of what is to follow: its skewed perspectives and arresting textures amount to a metaphor for the ensuing interaction between a middle-aged misanthrope and his moribund aunt – an interaction designed to disconcert the most open-minded theatregoer.
Sanitising death is a global phenomenon, and Vigil sets
Vigil
out to debunk all the tactful clichés that have developed around the fate-which-awaits-us-all. This could prove a bitter exercise, but the dialogue has a stylish flippancy that neutralises offence while it provokes thought.
The unlovable male lead, Kemp, works through various issues relating to human decease, from the tone of an obituary, organ donation, and the selection of music for the memorial service, to the gritty question of what to do with the dentures of the departed.
That he addresses his dying relative with brutal frankness on these subjects, and even helpfully provides apparatus to hasten her end should she find waiting for her death as tedious as he does, has shock value of the most refreshing kind.
Hopkins is subtle and masterly as ever in the role of Kemp, while Cooke as Aunt Grace, although she barely utters three lines throughout the play, perfectly counterbalances his dynamic performance with a mischievous take on her essentially passive role.
Director Christopher Weare judiciously underscores the quirkiness with spotlights and exaggerated sound effects, chief among which is the insistent ticking of a clock.
This play carries irreverence to new and unexpected heights, but not at the expense of depth: it has moments of poignancy that are all the more touching in their context of rapier-sharp and unsentimental humour. Brilliant entertainment.
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