nut
By debbie tucker green
The Shed, National Theatre
The deliberately contrived lower case letters in debbie
tucker green’s name and the names of her plays do not, thankfully, translate
into the content of her work. There is little contrivance in nut’s whip-crack dialogue and its
depiction of a reclusive young woman fighting her demons.
nut opens as
protagonist Elayne holds a bizarre conversation
with her friends Aimee and Devon about who would write their eulogies, how they
would ‘go out’, and who they would invite to their funerals. The surreal dialogue is peppered with telling insight into the serious undercurrents underlying
many young, banterous relationships that are struggling to stay jocular in the
face of real problems. But the lengthy scene peters out into confusion towards
the end as it loses its sense of focus.
We’re catapulted into a gripping duologue, however,
when we cut to Elayne’s sister having a painfully plausible spat with her
ex-husband about custody of their child. Anyone who has ever fought with a
loved one will squirm with recognition. It is only when Elayne’s sister visits that the link between them is established and the uncanny nature of the
first scene is explained. Slowly everything assumes a retrospective poignancy
and anguish that endures through the final scene as the innate love between the
sisters seems as ephemeral and extinguishable as the burning cigarettes that
pepper the play.
Tucker Green's language artfully
combines naturalistic sparring with poetic nuances that resonate throughout the
play. And the actors’ delivery is mostly pitch-perfect, particularly from Sharlene
Whyte as Elayne’s sister and Gershwyn Eustache Jr as her ex, who make you feel
the voyeuristic discomfort of watching a real couple puzzling out their personal
conflicts. The unique set design from Lisa Marie Hall – all curved rusting
poles and furniture that seems to mutate into sculpture – creates a beautiful, functional and ensnaring cage in which the characters pace and
snarl.
Ultimately it feels there is something missing that would have turned this from a
good play into a great one. Perhaps it is lost in that first long scene where
the characters’ interactions don’t always ring true, and leave you fearing a
lack of emotional investment. But by the end of the play, you sense the burn of the
cigarettes Elayne inflicts upon herself as if they are on your own skin, you inhale
the oppressive smoke into your lungs and feel truly affected by the daily grind
of this vignette of lives struggling for air.
This is a feisty little play, not flawless but absolutely worthy of being programmed in
the experimental space of the NT’s The Shed. It makes you intensely uncomfortable
and laugh out loud simultaneously, and leaves you feeling shell shocked – in
its very conflict lies its power.
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