‘The Brink’ marked my first visit to the
Orange Tree Theatre in Richmond; it also marked my first visit to the work of
fellow Welshman, Brad Birch. The play follows ‘Nick’ (Ciarán Owens), a teacher at a local comprehensive school, who, as the
title of the play suggests, is basically on the brink of some kind of nervous
breakdown. Throughout the play, we (or he), aren’t too sure what mental illness
he’s living with. Is it depression, anxiety, stress or has he just been caught
up in the ‘mess’ of a ‘modern’ world? And that’s a major part of my problem
with the play. Unlike Nielson’s delirious Dissocia, or James Graham’s problematic Privacy, I was left, literally on the brink, with no resolution or
conclusion.
But the ‘brink’ also represents an actual
geographical space in the school fields where in Nick’s dreams, lies a hidden
secret; some sinister presence that results in quite graphic visions of
destruction and death. The headmaster
(Vince Leigh), who confides in Nick, that below the brink lay an unexploded
World War Two bomb, confirms his vision. Delirious that his dreams may well be
an apocalyptic actuality of the future, it causes major malfunction in all
areas of Nick’s life, leaving him on an empty stage of cinders. Up to this point, I could empathize with him
all the way. Were all these crazy encounters with the sinister headmaster
reality or just figments of his irrational state of mind? Was there really a ‘bomb’, was there really a school...?
As a fellow playwright, the one question
that has always scared me is ‘what are you trying to say in your play?’. In my
younger days, I was always quick to reply with a cocky ‘isn’t that up to the
audience to tell me?!’. Now in my forties, after an unexpected and unsuccessful
suicide attempt, my earlier work makes sense. I guess that’s why I could
empathize so well with poor Nick, who clearly needed psychological support. Not
once in the play, was this support offered; not from his workplace or his
partner. We were left to ultimately laugh at his demolition and final
destruction, which is why I question the message or meaning of the play. If
Birch had followed Nielson’s pro forma, with a follow up, second act diagnosis
or resolution, then maybe I’d have a higher appreciation of the value of the 80
minutes I’d witnessed. Without it, it did feel unfinished, and almost a comedy
cop-out of such an important issue.
As a theatrical piece, it was well received.
Clever, quick and comic dialogue fast paced and beautifully choreographed by Carolina
Valdés. It’s just a shame that Birch has not yet ventured over the brink, to
possibly answer or address some of his brilliant ideas.
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