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The Theatreguide.London Review
Lower Ninth
Donmar at Trafalgar Studios Autumn
2010
Beau Willimon
has come up with an excellent idea for a play, but not the excellent
play itself.
Running just over an hour, Lower Ninth consists of three character
sketches and some attempts at simple dialogue, pasted together without
real coherence or continuity.
The effect is
something like reading the author's notebooks for an uncompleted
project, giving more of a sense of potential than of accomplishment.
Set in flooded New Orleans right after Hurricane Katrina (the lower -
i.e., below sea level - Ninth Ward was the most thoroughly destroyed
part of town), the play finds two men and the dead body of a third
stranded on the roof of a submerged house, waiting for rescue.
Over several days in the hot sun all three - the dead man will rise in
what may be a dream sequence - will talk, argue, reminisce and tell us
some things about themselves. And that's about it.
We get to know all three and the world they live in better, but there is
little drama or forward movement, and only the deus ex machina
prospect of rescue gives the play an ending.
The older man is a former gangster who has found religion and gone
straight; the dead man is the current neighbourhood gang leader, who was
inspired by the elder; and the younger living man idolises the dead man.
One senses, then, the ghost of a play about how the floods may have done
a service by breaking a deadly cycle, but Willimon hasn't written that
play.
He's more
interested in the wary relations between the two living men, and their
tentative connection, but those sequences are part of what gives the
text its notebook feeling, since they play more like background
information and filler than as the core of the action.
Given little more to work with than the character sketches, director
Charlotte Westenra and her cast - Ray Fearon (elder), Anthony Welsh
(younger) and Richie Campbell (body) - succeed in creating a strong
sense of the three men and their backstories, but can't completely
disguise the fact that there really isn't a play here.
Gerald Berkowitz
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