No Man’s Land @ Sheffield Theatres, and then touring.
So Professor Xavier comes back from a night on the piss with Magneto, and they (well, mainly Magneto) proceed to drink more and talk barely comprehensible gibberish about the past and poetry and stuff. Until Ser Alliser Thorne and a vampire come back and sort them the fuck out. The cunts. Untrustworthy directions to Bolsover Street are given, identities are confused, and more drink is taken.
The last time I saw NML I think it had Danny Dyer in it, and it was still quite good. But this was something else. The first few minutes are a bit odd, there is almost a certain tension between those in the audience there to see the stars in anything, and those there to appreciatePinter’s absurdist masterpiece, laughing knowingly at some not particularly funny lines. But then there is a sly reference to activities on Hampstead Heath, leading to a proper belly laugh from one and all and the production really gets rolling. It isn’t a comedy, but it is hilarious, it isn’t a tragedy, but it is full of tragic moments. Ian McKellen is a sprightly, happy go lucky, drunk, Patrick Stewart almost the exact opposite (in the first half, at least). Owen Teale is magnificent as Briggs, oozing menace and distrust, even serving up breakfast you fear he might smack you in the choppers. His delivery of the central Bolsover Street speech is quite, quite, brilliant. Damien ‘Hal, the disappointing Aidan Turner replacement in Being Human’ Molony is perfectly louche and not quite as sure of himself as he pretends to be.
Buy a ticket, steal a ticket, rob a theatregoer for a ticket. You will not regret it. It’s a poetic, vaudevillian, masterpiece. You cunt.