BLACKBIRD
Mercury
Theatre
Studio,
Colchester
Pilot
Theatre with York Theatre Royal
23.11.2011
The
discomfort
is
the
point.
We're
in
a
staff
room
on
some
anonymous
industrial
estate.
It's
a
tip
– as
rank
and
messy
as
the
lives
and
loves
of
the
two
people
who
seem
almost
trapped
inside
it,
under
the
harsh
glare
of
the
strip
lights.
They
are
a
man
nearing
retirement
– convinced
he'll
die
at
sixty
– and
a
woman
in
her
twenties,
who's
driven
some
distance
to
seek
this
confrontation,
a
ghost
from
his
past.
As
they
talk
– and
Harrower's
dialogue
is
incredibly
realistic,
with
unfinished
phrases,
loops
and
overlaps
– we
learn
of
their
shared
past
– an
"illegal
relationship"
when
she
was
twelve
and
he
was
in
his
forties.
We
feel
uncomfortable,
eavesdropping
on
their
raw,
brutal
exchanges,
constantly
wrong-footed
by
each
new
twist,
each
fresh
revelation.
He
has
moved
on,
or
so
he
thinks.
Paid
the
price,
changed
his
name,
found
a
hard-won
career.
She
has
stayed
in
the
same
house,
braving
the
stares
and
the
memories.
But
it
eventually
becomes
clear
that
both
of
them
are
trapped
in
the
past,
and
his
choice,
when
it
comes,
is
violent
and
shocking.
In
extended
monologues,
we
follow
them
back
through
her
therapy
letters,
never
sent,
his
letter
of
explanation,
and
recollections
of
the
barbecue
where
they
met,
the
codes,
the
car,
the
park,
to
that
night
in
Tynemouth
when
their
shared
fantasy
falls
apart
as
the
clock
strikes
midnight.
The
play's
seventy
minutes
hold
several
surprises,
the
last
– no
spoilers
here
– a
simple
piece
of
staging
which
is
painfully
potent.
But
it
is
the
characters
that
stay
with
us,
both
of
them
acted
– by
George
Costigan
and
Charlie
Covell
– with
searing
honesty,
and
a
little
humour
amongst
the
darkness.
The
dialogue
is
often
electric,
powerful
in
its
inarticulacy.
Director
Katie
Posner
wisely
lets
the
words
do
the
work,
trusting
her
players
to
run
with
the
moments.
Peter
is
nervous,
defensive,
his
eyes
itchy,
his
clothes
crumpled.
Una
is
angry,
fretful,
trembling
and
tense.
Just
before
the
end,
we
see
a
hint
of
what
they
lost
all
those
years
ago,
as
they
share
desperate
laughter
and
childish
fun.
And
we
can't
help
wondering,
as
we
debate
the
rights
and
wrongs,
the
truth
and
the
blame,
what
will
happen
to
them
now,
these
two
vulnerable
people
whose
space
we've
invaded
for
a
crucial,
uncomfortable
hour.
This
brilliant
piece
of
theatre
– film
or
television
just
wouldn't
do
– was
first
seen
in
Edinburgh
in
2005.
This
production
began
its
small
tour
in
York,
and
will
end
in
Exeter
next
week.
