Butchering romance
J
Grafton Street’s Glass Mask Theatre is offering a delightfully unpleasant chance to observe two people destroy each other from 11 February to 1 March. Men’s Business is Simon Stephens’ widely acclaimed translation of Franz Xaver Kroetz’s rarely performed 1972 cult classic, Mannersache.
Rex Ryan and Lauren Farrel star as Victor, a welder with strong opinions about what it is that women are supposed to do, and ‘Charlie’, the owner of a butcher shop whose name we only learn when reading the programme after the play, as she is not referred to by that once.
We meet the couple in media res, dining in the back of Charlie’s shop before proceeding to the first of many sex scenes of Men’s Business. Ryan, who graced Glass Mask last summer as the charismatic but troubling Gian Lorenzo Bernini in a production of Elizabeth Moynihan’s Celebrity, does not hold back in this role. His Victor is hateful, controlling and overall abrasive, hiding a fragile, self-doubting weakness behind performative over-masculinity. We love to hate him, which is a good thing, since for the solid first half of the show that is almost exclusively what we will be doing.
‘Charlie’ is at first more quiet, the almost too-innocent victim, clinging to her uncommitting partner as he turns more and more obviously abusive.
All things come to an end, however. Farrell, in her first appearance at Glass Mask, delivers almost a double performance, captivatingly transforming on stage in front of our eyes to after reaching her breaking point. Despite the slower start, by the bloody end she expertly balances the line between sympathetic and abject.
Do not let yourself be fooled by the heart-shaped poster and the release in Valentine’s season. Men’s Business is not about romance. Or rather, if it is, it does not have very nice things to say about it.
From the very first scene, when Victor tells ‘Charlie’ that she is not beautiful, we know that something is rotten, and hope, for her sake, that the relationship is doomed. The signs are certainly there.
Despite ‘Charlie’s’ best attempts to lead her almost-boyfriend back to her place, the pair never meets outside of the butcher shop. All of their intimacy is set with the background of cleavers, deboning knives and hanging legs of meat, occasionally to be interrupted by ‘Charlie’s’ work – sifting through entrails or chopping off finer cuts. The lighting and sound choices further flesh out the non-romantic point, breaking off colour and music mid-thrust, leaving the supposed intimacy awkward and uncomfortable to watch.
all things human boil down to soft tissue and fluid mechanics
The message is clear: despite what grander hopes the parties might have, all things human boil down to soft tissue and fluid mechanics.
One hell of a message to discuss on the way home with your date.
Finally, it would be remiss to not mention the charming performance of the third actor, who not once failed to steal the show when they appeared on stage. Spice the dog takes on the role of Wolfie, ‘Charlie’s’ dog whom Victor, for one reason or another, deems his romantic rival. Some viewers may be disturbed, as Men’s Business contains implied, off-stage depictions of violence towards animals. Let them be assured that Spice at the end is fine and a very good dog indeed.
While not comparable in size to venues such as Abbey or the Gate, Glass Mask continues to provide a much-needed artistic alternative in Dublin theatre. Its productions are consistently off-mainstream, and the directors are not afraid to take them in unexpected directions. In Men’s Business’s case, the script directions of Kroetz’s plays would usually lead to a more dialogue-heavy adaptation. An extra layer of choreography, sound and lights that the Theatre settled on adds on significantly to the image. The effect is strong, if lacking in subtlety. It knows it can never be Ibsen, so why bother trying.
Glass Mask’s next show, Little One written by Hannah Moscovitch and starring Hannah Brady and Dan Monaghan, premieres on 18 March 18, with tickets starting at €20. Glass Mask describes it as a “gripping psychological thriller” that “challenges our perceptions of memory and explores the complexities of what it means to love”. If that is a claim you would like to verify yourself, beware. It will not run for more than two weeks and seating is extremely limited.
