I think Jez Butterworth must love fishing, as his 2012 play The River spends quite a lot of the time talking about the intricacies of the pastime. If one doesn't partake it can make the text a little monotonous at times…but of course there's more to take from the overall experience.
The story takes place in a rural cabin near a river somewhere we never get to locate. Even though a county or exact geographic location isn't part of the equation, Butterworth’s adept skill at description means that one never feels lost. The surroundings and how they feel are visceral throughout.
This sense of tangible context is helped no end by set and costume designer Emily Bestow's pared down, believable cabin and sound designer Julian Starr's atmospheric, background soundscape; the hum of evenings embedded deep in nature, the tasteful side of watery backdrops.
Greenwich Theatre is a wonderful space to enjoy a play in; intimate without being stuffy, and a raked auditorium that allows for brilliant sightlines. Yet considering all of this the cast of three can afford to turn up their volume switches. I get that Butterworth’s intention is more internal than performative, but I found myself straining rather than listening more than once.
The characters don't have names. A man and two women are the three main protagonists (and the sea trout of course!), and Butterworth takes us to a quiet, intimate place where humans are working each other out, testing the waters in relation to longevity and making decisions that shape people's futures.
Without giving too much away, The River is two plays in one, and this dichotomy leaves one with a gentle, constant sense of suspense which is cleverly communicated. However, the same can't be said for overall structure and pace. Numerous times the evening loses its sense of continuity, be that through an extended scene of a fish gutting, or when a character executes a monologue of unrealistic length for real life.
I know a drama isn't reality per se, but when a playwright offers such levels of realism, it jars when their characters dive deeply into unrealistic sermons. Or perhaps this conundrum is less about prose and more about individual interpretation. I'll hand that cliffhanger over to director James Haddrell.
The main cast absolutely offer work of a high standard. Paul McGann is all brooding and lost, Amanda Ryan a woman full of quiet agency, and likewise Kerri McLean who offers the most believable scene. During an intimate cabin episode, the Man partakes in another of his self-aware, cerebral pontifications and she gives a look that clearly says “what a dickhead”.
I'm unsure what Butterworth wants us to take away in the end, and of course (conscientious) uncertainty can be the highest form of compliment if it's the actual agenda, but I don't believe it to be so in The River's case. The work offers insight and interest to a certain level, but disconnection and impatience are also part of the experience, and they're less desirable qualities.
Is behaviour learned or a decision? Do these women see what we see? Does the Man live in a doomed loop? All interesting questions without satisfying answers, or perhaps that's the point? Forgive the Americanism; but I need a little more closure.
The River runs at Greenwich Theatre until 27 October
Photo Credits: Danny with a Camera
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