Ballyturk review, Lyttelton

Enda Walsh's work can create confusion. None of the critiques of his new work, Ballyturk, refer to the, or even a, story. This frenetic 90 minute piece is instead reviewed as a gloriously eccentric and complex balletic exercise; a series of small and increasingly outlandish repetitions between two men who are recreating scenes of social normality while remaining outside it. That's the full gamut of clues we're given about the plot line, but anyone who saw Walsh's earlier play, The Walworth Farce, will recognise that what we're watching is two characters suffering emotional meltdown.

The two stars are Cillian Murphy who is a young man, a teen, mirroring the actions of his older, burly, endlessly inventive companion (the bullish, brilliant, Michael Murfi). Living together in a bedsit, each day is made up frenetic routines around dressing and eating. Instead of going outside, they have brought the world in, covering the window with a collage of pencil drawings of the local populace. They use it for target practice, keeping up with local gossip by listening to their neighbours through the party walls. Working through routines to fend off madness, they have slipped unwittingly into its grip.

When a psychiatrist type - fabulous Stephen Rea - enters the equation, he notes that Murphy is older than he'd been led to expect. He addresses the boy, inviting him to leave. Earlier we have seen Murphy suffering fits and talking of joining his sister in the clouds. Is he anticipating death in a house haunted by grief, or has he already died? Does the psychiatrist want the boy to physically leave the house, or to leave his father's imagination? The conclusion is perplexing and, I thought, deeply sad.

In conclusion: Ballyturk, Directed by Walsh, is terrific physical theatre. It's too long and the pace flags at times, but it's a delicious watch, a choreographic feast of imaginative interactions: powdering, fighting, fitting, dancing, jumping. The lack of a narrative is disarming. My friend hated it. Some people left. For me, the ending pulled it together. It can't be shared here, but it answered the questions raised. Or seemed to.

References

Ballyturk, Tickets

Lyttelton Theatre, National Theatre, South Bank, London SE1.  Run ends Saturday 11 October.