Not Now
Finborough Theatre
 

FROM the outset, where a young man finishes breakfast with an erratic, overdramatic soliloquy from Richard III, you know you are in for something special.

David Ireland’s small gem of a play is set in Belfast and deals with 50 minutes in the lives of Matthew, fresh from his father’s funeral and about to fly to London for an audition at RADA and his painter-decorator uncle, Ray.

The beautifully crafted relationship with Ray offering half remembered, cliched and unwanted advice to his nephew on how to act, culled from gossip, films and DVD box covers is typical, amusing Irish banter yet develops to explore far more profound truths when the conversation on performance slides into identity.

Matthew Blaney plays the insecure student, troubled by self-doubt and grief in an edgy performance constantly hinting at internal ferment that finally finds vent in a disagreement with his uncle’s insistence that he plays up his Irishness for the RADA audition panel, contrary to his insistence on being British.

Stephen Kennedy’s uncle, a middle-aged, would be womaniser and purveyor of dubious wisdom, creates a wonderfully rounded, congenial character to balance his nephew’s simmering tensions, only allowing his hidden identity and a troubled past to be dragged to the surface in the face of Matthew’s insistent demands.

Skilfully directed by Max Elton on the intimate Finborough stage the silences between the two men become as meaningful as the heated exchanges while the body language and space between the performers with only a breakfast-strewn table as any physical barrier is intelligently employed.

The contrasting speech rhythms of the two characters gradually soften as they grow to a deeper understanding of who the other is and the fears and hopes they hide without the script ever losing its energy or humour.

Ireland has managed to incorporate a number of profound themes into something that initially seems too brief, casual and comic to hold anything serious and yet the audience are left, smiling, moved and thoughtful about a masterful diologue, outstandingly performed.

Runs until November 26 2022, box office: 020 7244 7439, finboroughtheatre.co.uk