This evening I went to see a play at Manchester's Opera House, for the first time (I think) completely blind in my foreknowledge or expectation of what I was about to witness. I went to be entertained and enlightened. I thought I might learn something about a series of hugely popular novels and possibly be inspired to read them. No more than that.
As I took my seat and stared at the open-plan set (no curtain) I was immediately entranced. It looked very Shakespearean or perhaps like one of the interiors for Game Of Thrones. A large mostly empty forestage (save a comfy chair and a few filing cabinets) gave way to a long, sweeping, grey stone staircase and a higher platform above. The two outer walls had doorways cut in them and with the use of haze and continual cross-switching from amber to steel lights became rather foreboding and 'Gothic'.
However, what followed was a rather slow-paced piece of theatre. I enjoyed watching the acting from the three protagonists. Charles Lawson played John Rebus, a Scottish retired detective with a drink problem and a gammy leg with the tenacity and charm of Taggart and the slow deliberations and an alcohol dependency to rival another Scottish fictional detective, Bruce Robertson. Sometimes he was slow and sluggish, and others there was the younger Rebus shining through as he used old school methods to procure information. His character was flawed and complicated, and perhaps, if I had known him from the novels, I may not have liked his portrayal as much since I would already have had a preconceived idea of what to expect. This was a new character for me, and his every move was a new move. His seemingly only ally still working on the force is Siobhan Clarke (Cathy Tyson), an English detective who continually teeters between despair and veneration of Rebus. Always professional, always keeping her distance, her mannerisms and dialogue seemed sometimes clipped, but it was this that alerts you to the fact that she is trying to remain aloof as much as possible.
However, for me, what made this play was the performance of Edinburgh's self-confessed Godfather, Cafferty (John Stahl). His affected gentlemanliness and largesse pitched perfectly, and in his longer scene at the end of the play we see him start to crumble little by little and he measured this performance superbly.
What worked less well for me was the appearances of the female victims who pop up in Rebus' drink-fuelled hallucinations. (Dani Heron and Eleanor House). They stare accusingly, and their tones and mannerisms demanding justice for them and mocking Rebus for failing them, seemed forced and out of kilter with the reality of the play itself. At one point they walked out of a cupboard in the police Records Dept. Emotionally bland and similar, with little or no change to their characters it was very hard to sympathise with them - their whining tones just simply became annoying. No wonder someone bumped them off!
The murder story-line is a new one written especially for this stage adaptation and although it starts extremely fragmentedly all the dots joined together by the end but you really needed to watch and listen intently throughout - especially since Rebus' accent was far more West Coast than East - and the set (designed by Ti Green) failed to impress and really didn't work very well, despite my initial liking of it. In places it becomes rather 'Noiresque' looking like Mickey Spillane's Mike Hammer in the design. Robin Lefevre has directed this play - the first time Rebus has been seen on stage - with an obvious need to try and recreate the feel and timbre of the novels as much as possible; however for a first-timer like myself, I found it difficult to access as the deference to conventionality took precedence over originality and artistic licence.
Reviewer - Matthew Dougall
on - 30/10/18
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