PERFORMANCE REVIEW: Wrecks

Wrecks
Bush Theatre, Shepherd's Bush

Entering a small room resembling a funeral parlour, you are immediately accosted by the sight of a coffin. This may seem rather unsettling to some but those familiar with Neil LaBute’s plays are not so surprised. They simply give a wry smile and eagerly take their seats at this replica wake. For they know that with LaBute, the absurdity has only just begun.

Robert Glenister plays the unassuming Edward Carr, who wanders on stage using the same route audience members themselves have just taken. This instantly establishes a sense of proximity between Glenister and ourselves, and we feel compelled to listen attentively. For as he himself sardonically intimates, no one ever dares question a widower. Engrossed in his own thoughts, he grazes his fingers lightly across the shiny varnished wood of the coffin which contains his late wife Jojo, 15 years his senior. Amidst musings of love, sex, cars and cigarettes, Glenister delivers an alternative eulogy to the one he knows is expected of him, one which is both refreshing in its simplicity and engaging in its sincerity.

Single-handedly captivating an audience’s attention for over an hour is by no means an easy task. Although there are occasional lulls in the monologue, Glenister makes the most of LaBute’s token pauses to relight yet another cigarette, take a drag and continue his train of thought, only to then nonchalantly stub it out in the pot plant by his side. It is exactly these small actions and gestures, coupled with the occasional quip and flashes of sarcasm, which make this production so incredibly watchable.

The judicious direction of Josie Rourke combines beautifully with the authentic softness of Lucy Osborne’s plush peach carpet and billowing cream curtains—together they create an atmosphere which capitalises on the intimacy of the venue and helps draw the play to its final catharsis. The twist in the tale— which is so characteristic of LaBute’s plays —arrives with all the mighty impact of a car wreck. As always, LaBute’s subtle clues and hints slowly drop into place to create a disturbing picture, all the more disconcerting because Glenister deliberately makes Carr seem such an instantly likeable and ordinary character.

Although the final penny drops when he reveals his late wife’s deathbed confession, perhaps this time LaBute waits a little too long for Carr to affirm his own dark secret.

Ruth Collins