The Gates Arts and Community Centre
Thurs 30 Aug
★★★☆☆
Coincidence has the potential to be dangerously devilish. It creates webs of meaning outside of human understanding and reminds us that man can never quite be master of his own universe. In this tale beautifully and humorously played by Alastair Sill and Gareth John Bale, two men who go by the name of Richard Parker meet on the deck of a ferry and negotiate with these webs, attempting to sculpt their own destinies through the power of anticipation.
Using the curious fact that ‘Richard Parker’ is the name of a number of history’s shipwrecked men, many of which have become the victims of cannibalism, Bale’s Parker tries to take control of his own unfortunate fate by positioning himself next to another prospective coincidental victim. It it through this way alone, he believes, that he can survive. With fascinatingly factual, lengthy and passionate narratives, he sparks off an engaging show which urges us to believe in the power of concurrence.
The play is so charming and its themes so delicious that it is hard to be satisfied with its status as light-hearted comedy. Rather, one longs to see the uncanny elements developed a little more. With one-too-many references to ‘seagull shit’ and overblown comic actions such as attempting to fish with an outstretched leg, the call for laughs was less than subtle, leading me to contemplate the critic’s swearword: Slapstick.
But what allows this production to save itself from comparisons with Laurel and Hardy is its obscure nature and an in-depth focus on its own fictionality. Literary references abound, urging us to view this as a richly allegorical piece. Because of this, it doesn’t seem off when discussions of the absurd are matched with an unlikely poignancy. ‘I was washing up when I first became away of death’, begins Sill’s Parker, casually marrying the banal with the deep. As he continues to discuss the ‘plughole of nothingness’, he recounts the tale of a sinking piece of fried egg and the ‘incredible sadness that it would never be seen again’. These words bear melodramatic poignancy coming from a man who awaits his death and urge us to read the play as far more than a obvious foray into the comedic.
This production tests but doesn’t conclude what has the potential to become a fascinating discussion of the coincidence Sill’s Parker dismisses as ‘mumbo jumbo’. I would have liked to have seen these uncanny moments to played out in full force. It could be so otherworldly, so ghostly, so nightmarish and the hint of this, although unfulfilled, casts an alluring shadow over the obvious comedy within this work.