Troubled and Two Pints were the perfect plays

I TOOK a dander through to the Edinburgh Fringe to see a couple of plays. The first was Troubled, written and performed by Northern Irish theatre maker Suzy Crothers (above), which was shown at the Anatomy Theatre, Summerhill. The theatre itself is exactly that; a former anatomy theatre used by generations of Edinburgh University medical students since the late 17th century where they were taught anatomical dissections. I’ve got to admit I felt great irony in this because of the context of the play, which gives us deep insight into the life of the character ‘Alice,’ who is actually Suzy, who grew up in Belfast during the ‘Troubles’ and the impact this had on her subsequent life experiences. Suzy performed a dissection of her entire being and laid it out for us all to see, which was both brave and authentic.

Suzy welcomed us into the intimate space with the offer of a cup of tea from a 1970s tea trolley. There were multiple semi-circular shaped rows facing a small set which replicated her Ma’s living room. An orange fringed standard lamp stood in the corner and a simple Stag dining chair and a rug on the floor. We were even offered biscuits and blankets, which added comfort to the experience. Already we were there. She had us in the palm of her hand, and for a further hour we got her story through the character of Alice and her inner voices; her relationship with drink and drugs and her ‘actual relationships.’ Her struggles with depression and her suicidal thoughts.

It began with a montage from 1970s Belfast. Shirley Bassey singing Where do I begin? over images of bombed buildings and buses, Republican and Loyalist murals, civil rights marches and British Army gunfire. Tricolours and King Billy flags. Alice is fighting with her Ma about wanting to go out with her pals. She loses. We then travel with Alice to London where she tries to find her way in life, and on a holiday to Lisbon in 2023.

Suzy is an incredibly powerful energy on stage. She’s like an AK-47 in her delivery, so you’ll not miss a thing. She is utterly captivating in her myriad of roles, Alice, her Ma, her doctor, her boyfriend Tim, her Aunt Annie, and Big Red and Little Red, the two voices in her head—one of whom is Ian Paisley, the other Gerry Adams, which she does perfect impressions of.

This is a brilliantly clever piece of theatre that exposes the real guts and internal thoughts of a girl who has led a troubled existence following a troubled Belfast childhood, but who evidently won through in the end with a helping hand from St Martha.

I told Suzy afterwards she was like ‘a Belfast Catherine Tate.’ “I’ll take that,” she said.

I WAS lucky enough to catch Roddy Doyle’s Two Pints at the Assembly Rooms, and in true Doyle style, he did not disappoint. If you’re easily offended by curse words then avoid it, but what we must remember here is this; swearing is an integral part of an ordinary Dubliner’s brogue. It’s that simple.

Doyle is all about the dialogue which we know already from his previous works, The Van, The Snapper, The Commitments. Two middle-aged pals meet regularly for a couple of pints and their conversations flow as freely as the Guinness. They discuss Beaumount Hospital car park, which leads on to an idea for a TV programme called Celebrity Car Parks with Nigella Lawson as the attendant, possibly making muffins. One of their Das is lying dying in Beaumount, so he’s up visiting daily taking his anger out on the car park, then comes to the pub for a pint to let off steam. Their conversations cover everything from Ghandi, to burgers to cancer of the prostrate. “Where is that? I don’t know what it is.” “Apparently it’s like a rat, you’re never more than two inches away from it.”

The topic of mortality sits comfortably between the two men and their two pints as they wait for the aul fella to die. “There’s no livin yer best life, this is it.” “Dyin is part of livin.” “We were gonna put Nigella’s book on top of me da’s coffin, but he was worried we might not get the lid on.” The one liners are fast and furious, delivered naturally with textbook comedic timing by the two actors, Sean Kearns (Angela’s Ashes, The Boxer) and Anthony Brophy, (In the Name of the Father, Some Mother’s Son, The Tudors) both of whom I assumed were Dubliners, but when I spoke with them afterwards I realised Sean wasn’t a Dub at all. His accent was impeccable.

The idea for the play came after Doyle had to open a Facebook account for a character in his book. The result, a three part play set in a pub, with the two men simply talking shite. They ponder many questions, do women have tonsils? Is there really an afterlife? Was Alzheimer’s named after Mr Alzheimer? Gay marriage. What their idea of heaven is. This is real spit and sawdust banter and brilliantly funny, although there are a couple of tender moments shared between the two following the aul fella’s funeral. Sean tells Anthony to take care of himself and not to underestimate what grief can do to you, as he shares his own experiences of it.

Overall this was 90 minutes of Roddy Doyle heaven for me. So if you get the chance to see it, do!