Review: THE FERRYMAN, Royal Court

Jez Butterworth's The Ferryman is the fastest-selling play in Royal Court history and has already secured a West End transfer to the Gielgud Theatre from 20 June. Sam Mendes' production categorically deserves this success and more.

The play is a harvest feast of immeasurable brilliance. Butterworth's writing offers an exquisite balance of humour and drama, revelry and mourning, surprise and expectation. It is a masterclass in every aspect of production and performance. It seems as though the Royal Court has once again made history with this incredible, deft creation.

The Ferryman is an ensemble piece of colossal scope. The Carneys are having their Harvest celebration at their rural County Armagh farm in 1981 when troubled history comes knocking. Quinn (Paddy Considine) and his sister-in-law, Caitlin (Laura Donnelly) are forced to face up to the disappearance of Quinn's brother, Seamus - Katelyn's husband - when, several years after he went missing, his body is found in a bog. Not only does this stir up unease with the looming and likely responsible IRA in the shape of Mr. Muldoon, but it also disturbs the unacknowledged but unmistakable romance permeating Quinn and Kate's friendship.

The Carney house is never still, and private conversations are highly sought but nigh impossible to gain. Quinn and his wife Mary have seven children, including a baby (Teddy Ciecko) who makes several entrancing appearances onstage as Bobby Carney with the wonderful Carla Langley as Sheena.

This makes for a busy household, especially with the addition of two aunts (Dearbhla Molloy, Bríd Brennan), an uncle (Des McAleer), gently deranged Englishman, Tom Kettle (John Hodgkinson), and the three visiting Corcoran boys: Shane (Tom Glynn-Carney), Diarmud (Conor MacNeill) and Declan (Michael McCarthy), who help bring in the harvest. The cast is not only of considerable size but also immense quality. From the youngest, Honor (Sophia Ally), to the eldest, Aunt Maggie Far Away, who is often lost in a world of her own, each and every performance is exquisitely crafted, both individually and as an ensemble.

The story takes place over 24 hours and is told in three acts - an interval between One and Two and a short pause for a scene change before Three. The play switches between intimate and secretive dialogues between two or three to colossal celebratory ensemble scenes featuring the entire family onstage at once. Yet the production never gets lost and the scenes, though sometimes raucous, always have clear direction.

Conversations between Considine's Quinn and Donnelly's Caitlin are intense and juicy, while moments with the girls crowded around Aunt Maggie Far Away during one of her lucid moments oscillates between bittersweet beauty and foul-mouthed hilarity. It's a play about the fire of youth and the sobriety of adulthood.

A pervasive sense of the Northern Irish culture permeates the stage throughout Mendes' production, but it manages to refreshingly exist beyond the Troubles and the country's complex political history. Dark Irish humour and ancient fairytales mixed with the horrors of the banshee enrich the dialogue and make the Carney house feel like home. Meaty intertextuality alongside sweeping monologues of lost loves make this play a remarkably relatable, human piece of theatre.

Rob Howell's design creates the Carney kitchen down to infinitesimal, naturalistic detail. Every inch of the stage feels lived in by this family. Even the children carry a natural sense of home in their physicality as they move around. There's a huge table with mismatched chairs, a busy sink and lived-in windowsills, and children's paintings line the walls interspersed with band posters. An almost-Irish-flag hangs on the wall above the steep, wooden staircase; a green cloth with the Irish harp hangs, then a gap of white wall followed by a heavy orange stain completes the dreamed-of Ireland.

John Hodgkinson's English island amidst an Irish sea is adeptly accomplished; he creates the vague distance of Tom Kellet while remaining present and entrancing, as well as doing some remarkable and unexpected animal handling. All of the Carney children maintain a fierce, familial bond and create truthful sibling rivalry and humorous squabbles. The three Corcoran boys also offer stunning performances, giving a glimpse into the consequences of getting in over your head.

Considine's Quinn and Donnelly's Caitlin create sparking, truthful chemistry and are unmistakably drawn to each other, while Gerard Horan's Father Horrigan offers us a solid portrait of the intimidated priest who is threatened into betrayal of the Carneys. Stuart Graham doesn't have a lot to work with in Muldoon - the IRA man who threatens the Carneys' peace - but this feels almost deliberate on Butterworth's part; the play is not about politics or the IRA, but about family and how it holds together in times of crisis.

Mendes' direction makes every moment of this play feel intensely real, carrying us along on waves of secrecy and merriment. Lighting from Peter Mumford creates the ebb and flow of day to night and threat to peace with aplomb.

The Ferryman is a cornucopia of talent and exquisite execution, if perhaps a little long, culminating in a heart-stopping final scene. An unforgettable piece of theatre that will no doubt be talked about for decades to come.

The Ferryman at the Royal Court until 20 May, 2017

At the Gielgud Theatre from 20 June until 19 May, 2018

Photo credit: Johan Persson