A Slow Fire
Jermyn Street Theatre, London
⭑⭑⭑⭑☆

A SLOW FIRE hits Britain right on cue, as the terrifyingly hot summer of 2026 sizzles to a close. Encapsulating all our dark fears, writer Simon Stephens’ uncompromising depiction of apocalyptic disaster and world annihilation forces us to look doom in the face. No easy task. After all, in the words of TS Eliot: “Human kind cannot bear very much reality.”

In the play, two men (Ashton and Reece) demonstrate one way of “bearing reality.”

They are shacked up in a sort of shed where they pass the time enacting scenes and telling stories. The scenes are eclectic, fast-moving and packed with humour; the characters’ struggle to find hope is, meanwhile, revealed as a futile enterprise in a futureless world.  

In Andrew Clancy’s set, a wall and shutters conceal an outside world of horror. We hear ominous sounds of destruction, then silence; we catch occasional glimpses of nothingness. Planetary destruction, we understand, is in full progress and man is powerless in its path. Most people seem dead, rain is a forgotten delight and fires rage out of control.  

Meanwhile, the two men persist with human interchange, imbibing the horror while relentlessly living. It’s a snapshot of human behaviour in crisis. But is there a denouement? We watch for well over two hours expecting some ultimate enlightenment. Perhaps that’s the point. Perhaps there can’t be.

Rex Ryan brings his production to London from Dublin. It shows at the tiny Jermyn Street Theatre where intimacy is the name of the game and close-up scrutiny of the characters the raison d’etre.

And two fine Irish actors, Ross Gaynor (Ashton) and Ian Toner (Reece) deliver with panache. We are mesmerised by the outstanding, sharply honed dialogue and repeated encounters with the unexpected and absurd. But always we wait for what this is telling us, and somehow this question remains unanswered.

Half way through, there is variation with two new characters. First Mary (played inexplicably by an uncredited actor) brings us a vehement oration you might easily find in a Greek tragedy. In it, she speaks with simple and shocking directness about the burning of the world. It’s a marvellous wake-up call.

Then visitor Presley (Fionn O Loingsigh) arrives from the terrifying world out there. He raises the tension and brings, among other things, a supply of welcome “pork,” which they enthusiastically savour, only gradually to infer that it did not come from a pig.  

Simon Stephens is a master of his craft, delivering sharply honed dialogue and a scenario worthy of Samuel Beckett. He shocks and startles, poses clever thoughts on God, on hope, on maleness and on friendship, and he makes us laugh, admire, startle and think. His play’s subject captures the moment, and he simply reeks of coolness. In that sense, this is a star show.

But this is not Beckett and, in the end, there is sadly no great premise nor underlying passionate philosophy.

Brave and topical it is, but more a showcase for the writer than a landmark drama.

Runs until September 26. Box office: (020) 7287-2875, www.jermynstreettheatre.co.uk.