Wisely, Jahjah does not attempt to make coherent what is intended as fragmented and even chaotic. The set (Jahjah and Yvonne Hocothee) with its collection of milk crates emblematic of restless urban life, which offer uncomfortable seating or precarious footing, which intrude to trip the actors, supports the notion of essential disorder. The fragmented nature of the script with its many encounters and rapid departures, the deliberately disconnected movement from one implied and imprisoning site (cleverly suggested by the vertical supports of the wing panels) to another, sudden plunges into darkness, strobe lights and loud jarring sounds all create a sense of dislocation. Above all, the unanticipated, rapid movement from either exceedingly funny exchanges or individual philosophic introspection to moments of either physical or emotional violence deliberately blocks the audience from making sense of events or finding satisfactory story arcs.
Furthermore, our interest in the play is not held by the conventional gambit of gaining insight into why Zucco is a killer but of his potential as an imaginary referential. Zucco is anxious that he might forget who he is, and even The Girl (an appropriately sweet and rebellious Gemma Scoble) finds it difficult to remember his name, suggesting a lack of identity. His claim to be transparent, a claim ingeniously reflected in the evocative lighting (Larry Kelly) of the vilene panels, suggests that he may be whatever is projected upon him. He may be an embodiment of evil, a Camusian outsider, an Oedipus destined to kill, or a Christ figure as suggested by a single arm gesture, offering salvation to those desiring the oblivion of self. Tim Cole’s ability to give the impression that the keys to his mysterious impulsion are not discoverable and Jahjah’s restraint in not over-directing him, allow this complexity to exist, to baffle.
There are many notable moments in this production. The comedy team of Neil Modra (Guard, Police Superintendent) and Sam Dugmore (Guard, Police Sergeant) are particularly funny on a stakeout with walkie-talkies and the ridiculous commentary of the Knitting Women (Lyn Pierse) throughout Zucca’s hijacking of the Elegant Woman (a delightful Kirsty Jordan) is bitingly amusing. In an entire contrast to this drollery, the sad yet dignified monologue of The Old Gentleman (Adrian Barnes) who has lost his way in a railway station closed for the night leaves a deep impression. In addition, one of the highlights was the effective use made of a lonely trumpet (Michael Leonard) to create a mood and atmosphere.
Many thanks to Anna Jahjah and her team for a thought-provoking theatre experience.
