Circa Theatre
May 26-June 23 | Reviewed by Simon Sweetman

SCOTTISH playwright David Harrower has, with Blackbird created a frank – intimate almost to the point of claustrophobic – look at innocence and guilt; at how the dynamics behind human relationships are never entirely what they seem; particularly when, as an outsider looking in, the truth of any situation tends to turn on itself as more is revealed. When you have two people both telling their version of the truth it is even trickier. This is what the audience is faced with when enduring Blackbird, an amazing theatrical experience that is most certainly not a light-hearted night out at the local playhouse.

Ray, 56, is confronted with his past when Una, 27, arrives unannounced at his office. She has traveled to see him; to put him on the spot. The visceral action takes place in a generic communal back-office lunchroom. John Hodgkins’ set is the very picture of authenticity, overstuffed rubbish bins and unwashed plates add to the murky feel and the gritty style.

Ray (played expertly by Nick Blake, last seen in Two Brothers) had a sexual relationship with Una (Rachel Forman backs up her superb work in 2006’s Fool For Love). But we are plunged far deeper in to the sexual tensions of these characters when we find out that this affair happened when Ray was 41, making Una just 12.

Nick Blake is a nervous wreck as he shuts the door to the outside world, trapping himself and Una – with their shared past – in the literal mess of the aforementioned room that mirrors the metaphorical mess of their lives. We feel his confusion before we are aware of her pain. We hear her rage before we can gauge its reason; bit by bit the versions of truths unravel. Nothing is quite as simple as the truth – here, nothing at all is simple.

David Harrower’s script allows Blake and Forman to bounce off one another like dueling soloists; long monologues allow each actor to run the gamut of emotions; there’s a jazzy interplay to the way each actor takes time to build their character’s case, receiving full support from the other player, each allowing the silence between dramatic, distinctive cadences to speak in its own right.

Ray, who has changed his name and taken a grey middle-management position now looks cautiously over his shoulder at every turn, his attempts to ignore a past part of his life are clearly futile; his methods suggest a band-aid when what was needed was a tourniquet. Una, on the other hand, has had her future mapped out for her via her past, constantly on the run; her confrontational rage the ultimate mask.

During the course of this 80-minute, one-act play, several audience members seemed to shuffle uncomfortably, a wriggle became a writhe as the dark poetry of Harrower’s script transcended any thoughts of black-comedy, occupying a similar space to fellow countryman Alexander Trocchi’s daring, searing prose.

See also:
» Blackbird (Reviewed by Helen Sims)