Reykjavik @ Hampstead Theatre, London
Comparing and contrasting two rooms in the 1970’s, we explore the lives of Hull fishermen and the trawler industry. Think flares and fish…and the European Union.
In Act 1 we’re in Hull, in a manager’s office. Second generation fishing fleet owner, Donald Claxton (John Hollingworth) perhaps even of a dynasty. Yet the manager has never been on a boat at sea, ‘cos his dad wouldn’t let him. He also faces doing ‘The Walk’, going from house to house meeting the widows of a recent fishing boat disaster.
Thanks for reading Cultural Capital! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.
Skippers radio in their position and their catch; his secretary Charlotte (Sophie Cox) creates a list of names for the vicar to use at their memorial and the manager turns the lights on and off, watching, waiting, hoping…for the catch to come in, and his boats and men to come home.
He also encounters a wannabe widow, Lizzie (Laura Elsworthy) the unhappy wife of one of the survivors — and perhaps kindles a relationship with her.
We’ll never know how things progress because next thing he’s flown to Rekyavik to ostensibly care for the survivors. Who vary in their emotions and reactions to his arrival. One (the aggressive husband of the unhappy wife and singer) plots and schemes to kill his boss at every opportunity. We’re not quite sure why — Jack Jopping (wannabe Noel/Liam Gallagher as portrayed by Matthew Durkan) seems crazed on the alcohol and lack of sleep, and loss of his finger in the morning. At another point, he tries to put out a chip fire by weeing on them. Say no more. Others though are more chuffed as the boss brings bargaining skills — leading to chips, their deceased friend (in his coffin) becoming a resident of the hotel for the night and proper beer. They turn to discussing premonitions and mourning their friend.
The young, female manager of the hotel Einhildur (Sophie Cox) battles inappropriate behaviour, destructive actions and comments, the group’s propensity for violence and to make a mess — and disrespect everything and everyone. And to break into sea shanties at every opportunity. She also has to overcome their incomprehensible lingo — as the youngest of the crew, the Snacker (Adam Hugill) floats about after her. At the same time, she knows that things will change as Iceland is voting on whether to extend their fishing rights, which will impact drastically what the British fishing fleet can achieve and catch.
As she waits for change, the men wait for part-revenge and retribution, for possible romance in one case and part-mythic things — signs and wonders. They all begin to tell ghost stories, to recount superstitions — even the manager has a ghost story from ‘The Walk’ to share. And mix up their metaphors leading to an almighty bickering match.
With strong characterisation, lots of humour and story-telling, this is no Poldark in Hull or Brassed. Nor is Alan Bleasdale or Willy Russell. Instead it’s a unique blend of community made by a tough industry, culture, pride, traditions and myths, and how we deal with death — actual and imminent expectation of. Also it’s about what a community looks like when its life — and death — is entirely dependent on consumerism and capitalism, of a very specific targeted product which employs everyone. Their capacity and their vulnerability. Further more, it’s about straight talking — the dressing down the manager gives the skipper he’s sacking is nowhere near a feedback sandwich. And yet there’s no malice or unkindness in it — it’s fact and based on industry need — and profit margins.
I would have liked to see more time spent in the play between father and son — the father William Claxton (Paul Hickey) was wheeled on, purely to be sent out the door in a taxi again. Surely he should have wobbled onto the plane too — he knows the men, their families, generation unto generation. The contrast between his experience and his son’s land-based experiences could have been deeper. Some things were set up which remained only hints — we never quite got into why the angry husband was determined to kill the boss who was going to have them fed, hoteled in comfort and flown back home. Or his slavering desire to go eye for eye, tooth for tooth, finger for finger. Or the mystery of why one of the survivors slept with their boss’s wife.
Unexpectedly, for such as man’s world, the female characters were memorable and striking, telling us a lot about the wider community we’d become a part of for the play. The female hotel manager (put upon by her feckless mother) was delightful — fierce, intelligent and eventually charmed by the younger crew member. Love too the platform boots! and her ghost story about the vicar in love.
Weaker elements were the chips. In a strange bit of prop inclusion, having mentioned nothing but their desire for chips for a focused time; apart from one, the whole cast then ignored their arrival and left them to go cold. Perhaps having a cast eating chips was too dull, smelly or hazardous, but (given how much of their own uniquely crafted ‘beer’ they were able to mix and put away during the play), not eating the demanded chips was odd. But they only arrived to provide some shock value?!
Equally weak was the hippie liberal vicar, Reverend Polkinghorne (Matthew Durkan). Such a cliche, so stereotypical and banal and a trope we’ve seen endlessly so many times before. Though he did deliver a nice bit of poetry and an ability to appreciate the spiritual in poetry people saw as humanistic. Well-liked by local people, the stereotypical vicar was there just to act as a joke and create some laughs. I wish whole heartedly that modern playwrights would actually go out and meet some local community faith leaders (beyond the headlines) who are working hard to care and love for their parishioners in really hard times rather than churning out the thinly pictured version we’ve seen so many times before. Given how real everyone else was in the play, jokey vicar seemed a sad edition to proceedings. Daphne Du Maurier could do it in a Gothic context — why not here?
In the end, knowing that the Thatcher years are coming, you fear for the whole of this industry, the workers and the resources they’re dependent on for life.
Support my writing and future cultural adventures for the price of a cup of coffee at Kofi: https://ko-fi.com/susanadventuresinculture
