Review: SHACKLETON'S CARPENTER, Jermyn Street Theatre

With a yelp and a scramble, forth comes Henry McNish from the tarpaulin-covered boat, searching the stage for his clothes with a grunt and a murmur as he brandishes his whisky bottle.

We learn, swiftly, that behind the rags lays a rich story, perhaps more heroic than the one it lies perpetually in the shadow of.

Ernest Shackleton may remain a legendary figure, but the names of those 27 souls alongside him when the Endurance sank in the ice floes of Antarctica in 1915 have remained anonymous ever since.

In McNish - the carpenter aboard the doomed ship and the man whose craft in fixing the lifeboat ensured the entire crew's survival, but who suffered a last fallout with 'The Boss' on that trip - there is one crew member who clearly wants to remain hidden no more.

We view that fateful Imperial Trans-Atlantic Expedition aboard Endurance through the eyes of an aged and delirious McNish, alone on the wharf in New Zealand except for the apparitions that visit him throughout. He meets former boss Shackleton, who he initially regards with loathing, and each member of that crew, all owing their lives to McNish.

Malcolm Rennie, who played McNish in the one-man show's tour last year, reprises this most relentless of roles, and every twitch, bellow and howl of desperation seems summoned by memory, so completely does he inhabit the part.

Shackleton's Carpenter may draw on an historic event from more than 115 years ago, but the themes remain strikingly relevant: the class system that leaves McNish embittered, the disavowing and destitution of a hero, and the enduring indomitability of the human spirit.

The direction from the late Tony Milner, whom this play is dedicated to, is smart and allowed the actor to artfully sift through dense historical information and brings those key moments to life. Rennie imbues McNish with venom and vulnerability as we join him through a journey of anger, resentment, confusion, bitterness, delirium and, ultimately, reconciliation.

Playwright Gail Louw seems desperate to pack every conceivable detail into the show - at times a huge positive that adds depth and context, while at others even Rennie appears overburdened in tackling the material.

She does, however, steer clear of bestowing omnipotence on McNish, instead sketching him with all the flaws of any other man: the enduring rage of being denied a Polar Medal while 24 others were awarded it, the uncertainty over his own recollections, his bafflement at how he ended up alone, drunk in a foreign land. She spares no scrutiny, her script shining into his soul every bit as brightly as the stark stage lighting.

At 80 minutes, Shackleton's Carpenter is a breeze relative to many shows, but you still marvel at the physical energy and intensity of Rennie, those eyes blazing right up until the denouement, the limbs thrashing as he prowls every inch of the cramped stage.

Aside from the boat, all that occupies the Jermyn Street Theatre stage is a small box, used liberally by Rennie to elevate himself in those moments of delirium. He'll need all that stamina, with a 16-venue UK tour due to start in Barnes on 11 September after the current run ends.

Shackleton's Carpenter at Jermyn Street Theatre until 17 August

Photo credit: Anna Urik

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