Words: Damien Barrett @_helloshoppers | Images: Bob Seary
A macabre black comedy with a touch of (non)erotic asphyxiation
It’s 1965, and capital punishment has just been abolished in the UK. In a dingy pub in the north of England, the landlord, Harry, who until recently was known as “the second-best hang man in Britain” holds court surrounded by a motley crew of sycophants and hangers-on. The arrival of a mysterious stranger from London creates an atmosphere toxic with suspicion. When Harry’s arch-rival turns up, the clash of egos is both brutal and desperately sad”.
Trigger warnings abound in the Australian premiere of Hangmen by playwright Martin McDonagh (In Bruges, The Lonesome West and The Lieutenant of Inishmore) at the New Theatre in Newtown. Premiering in the UK (and winning the 2015 Oliver Award for Best Play, no less), Hangmen is a dark, macabre and (at times) very twisted black comedy whose themes are still surprisingly relevant.
With a stark set featuring a lone spotlight focussed on a hangman’s noose and a graphic opening scene featuring one of the final hangings in the UK, this play was certainly not what I expected from a night at the theatre. The action quickly shifts from Harry (superbly played by Nathan Farrow) and his assistant Syd (a conflicted and bitter Jack Elliot Mitchell) considering the guilt (or potential innocence) of the final “criminal” to be hung in the UK, to Harry’s pub in the north of England where a local reporter is interviewing Harry as capital punishment is abolished.
We meet Harry’s long-suffering wife Alice (a very likeable and considerate Sonya Kerr), his daughter “our Shirley” (played with a sense of naïve innocence with a hint of rebellion by Kim Clifton), the local, all-knowing Inspector Fry (Alastair Brown), and a comedic trio of barflies who offer an almost Greek chorus-like commentary on the events that unfold.
When Mooney, a menacing stranger chillingly played by Robert Snars, arrives in the pub, the play’s tone quickly shifts. Who is he? Who was he? Why is he interested in Harry and Alice’s teenage daughter? What are his intentions, and what, if anything, is he hiding?
As things go from bad to worse, Syd reappears, and we see the arrival of Harry’s rival, Hangman Albert Pierrepoint, who is upset about Harry’s comments to the press. Things escalate quickly, and mysterious stranger Mooney finds himself lynched by the angry mob.
At this point on opening night, a slight costume and rigging malfunction temporarily paused the performance while the stage crew ensured that actor Robert Snars wasn’t actually choking by hanging live on the stage of the intimate New Theatre. With the actor’s safety ensured, the rigging slightly adjusted, and some wonderful in-character ad-libbing from both Farrow and Snars, the play resumed and came to its surprising conclusion.
The charm of this piece lies in playwright McDonagh’s mastery of black comedy. There are twists and turns that the audience does not see coming as “our Shirley” goes missing, and the opening night audience finds itself laughing and then questioning whether they should be. The playwright’s observations on relationships, violence against women, and a culture that chose to execute its citizens are both insightful and relevant, and, for a piece set firmly in the 1960s (with excellent en pointe period costumes from Helen Kohlhagen), still very relevant and topical today.
This is a true ensemble cast, working together as one under Deborah Mulhall’s excellent and precise direction. To be funny in a black comedy, actors must be real, let the demons out, and then give the audience permission to laugh at them. Comedy and laughs lie in truth. To be funny, you have to be real, and biting, cruel, cynical, insightful reality is what Hangmen delivers in spades.
Hangmen by Martin McDonagh plays at the New Theatre, Newtown, through to 14 September.
