Review: The mystery of the Inquisitor and the Prisoner is compelling
Oran Mor, Glasgow
'You are us,' says the Inquisitor of Peter Arnott's play to his silent Prisoner at one point. This is a telling moment in this unspecified war of attrition that reveals the similarities as much as the differences between those in one conflict or another. Whether political, religious or generational, as the Inquisitor expounds on morality, ethics and all the contradictions at play that give us the excuse to square any circle we like in the name of whatever cause is going, for a veteran like him, this time it seems, it's also personal.
Tom McGovern's Inquisitor is every inch the well-heeled establishment mandarin in Liz Carruthers' suitably elliptical production, the final lunchtime offering from A Play, a Pie and a Pint's spring and summer season. Sat in the old school splendour of designer Heather Grace Currie's set, McGovern waxes forth from his desk while his Prisoner, initially bound, but always captive, acts as a human sounding board, never giving anything away in Michael Guest's concentrated portrayal.
Read More:
A bold concert with a mighty juggernaut
'Charm aplenty' - Review: Goodbye Dreamland Bowlarama, Oran Mor
Review: You Won't Break My Soul, Oran Mor, Glasgow
Just what alliance the Prisoner appears to have betrayed is never revealed, but both men are facing the consequences of whatever actions got them here. Is the Prisoner a terrorist sympathiser infiltrating the system in order to corrupt it? Or is he merely an angry do-gooder who got in too deep? As for the Inquisitor, how did he end up where he is now? And why does he appear to be as trapped as his captive?
Arnott sets up the sort of circular debate we don't see enough of on stage in an expansive probing of belief, faith and how far someone will go to get what they want. Flanked by cosmic film footage, the Inquisitor's speech is part TED talk, part confessional before the two men finally find some kind of accord beyond the silence. Just who is seeking to be released, however, no one is saying in a fascinating and compelling hour.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
The National
21 hours ago
- The National
Douglas Maxwell's touching dog-walker play fetches more plaudits
The winning plays – The Sheriff Of Kalamaki (2023-24) and So Young (2024-25) – speak to the profound humanism, the insightful humour and the poetic sensibility in his writing. So, too, does Man's Best Friend – a piece originally written for the lunchtime theatre A Play, A Pie And A Pint – which is now being staged in a new, slightly longer version by the Tron. In this cleverly-structured monodrama, the excellent Jordan Young takes on the role of Ronnie, a young man from Edinburgh who resides in Glasgow, but never quite feels that he belongs there. A professional dog walker, he stumbled into his line of work almost accidentally while walking his own dog during the Covid pandemic. READ MORE: 'Completely unprecedented': BBC cuts live feed for Kneecap Glastonbury performance In the play's very funny first half, Ronnie wanders around designer Becky Minto's ingenious, quasi-abstract set (which manages to evoke simultaneously the paths and hills of Ronnie's walks and the solitary domesticity of his home life). As he does so, he regales us with hilarious tales of the trials and tribulations of walking five dogs attached to the 'central belt'; the dog-walking device he created and which he wears around his waist. Ronnie's encounters with a macho dog trainer and a hippy-ish animal lover are a source of tremendous comedy. So, too, are the dog walker's embarrassed recollections of the incident in which one of the pooches in his care managed to ingest a significant quantity of a well-known energy drink (the consequences of which would be best described as scatological). As Ronnie introduces us to his five charges – Albert (his own dog), Coriander, Fury, Carlos and Rex – illustrator Ross Collins offers us charming canine animations which are projected cleverly onto the set. To synopsise the second half of the play in any detail would be to commit a crime of spoiling so grave as to merit one being dragged through park mud by five energetic mutts. Suffice it to say that a dramatic, dog-related discovery takes Ronnie – and us, the theatre audience – into an emotional space that is radically different from the light-heartedness of the play's opening section. As Ronnie recalls two parallel stories of love and loss, the almost forensically empathetic dimension in Maxwell's writing comes to the fore. The turn in the narrative is executed to great dramatic effect, not only in the author's writing and Young's compelling performance, but also in Minto's set, which (with the help of Grant Anderson's superb lighting design) is transformed powerfully. Director Jemima Levick's production is sensitive and precise in equal measure. Patricia Panther's sound and music are appropriately atmospheric. What begins as a humorous monologue about professional dog walking ends as a touching and hopeful play about our collective experience of Covid and the universal experience of grief.
.jpeg%3Fwidth%3D1200%26auto%3Dwebp%26quality%3D75%26trim%3D0%2C2%2C0%2C0%26crop%3D&w=3840&q=100)
Scotsman
2 days ago
- Scotsman
Theatre reviews: Man's Best Friend The Inquisitor
Sign up to our Arts and Culture newsletter, get the latest news and reviews from our specialist arts writers Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to The Scotsman, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... Man's Best Friend, Tron Theatre, Glasgow ★★★★ The Inquisitor, Oran Mor, Glasgow ★★★★ The Croft, Festival Theatre, Edinburgh ★★★ It's a truth universally acknowledged that during the pandemic, the relationship between people and their pets gained a whole new significance and intensity. I'm not sure, though, that that inflexion-point in human-pet relations had ever been celebrated in theatre, until the moment in 2022 when Douglas Maxwell's monologue Man's Best Friend first appeared at A Play, A Pie, and A Pint. Jordan Young in Man's Best Friend | Mihaela Bodlovic The monologue tells the story of Ronnie, who, after the tragic loss of his wife, and a decision to walk away from his job, finds himself - as the world opens up again - working as a dog-walker to five rowdy canine charges, four of them owned by his Glasgow neighbours. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad Now Ronnie reappears - at the Tron and on tour - in an expanded 80 minute version of the play, directed by Jemima Levick, and performed by Scotsquad star Jordan Young; and three years on, Man's Best Friend emerges as an even more powerful response to a moment in history that changed so many lives, and left unresolved pain in so many hearts. In this version, the show receives a slightly more elaborate staging, courtesy of designer Becky Minto and lighting designer Grant Anderson. In truth, though, it hardly needs them, so clearly does the play's strength lie in Douglas Maxwell's writing - often hilariously funny, yet also profound, and sometimes richly poetic - and in the performance at the centre of the show. In this version, Young takes centre stage as a fine tragi-comic actor at the absolute height of his powers; younger than Jonathan Watson's original Ronnie, but all the more poignantly lost for that - until the play's pivotal moment, when his own dog leads him towards s shocking discovery that, at last, begins to awaken him from the long sleep of grief. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad This week's final spring season Play, Pie and Pint show is likewise a profound and thoughtful monologue; but in Peter Arnott's The Inquisitor - a 2007 play restaged to mark Arnott's 40th anniversary as a playwright - the speaker is not alone. He is an investigator conducting a final interview with a man accused of terrorism; but he finds that his interviewee will not speak, and sits in silence throughout the encounter. The effect is to create a monologue in which the speaker - powerfully played by Tom McGovern - spends an all but fruitless hour trying to bring his interviewee (an eloquently silent Michael Guest) back from his exalted commitment to a martyr's death, to the compromised, messy yet magical stuff of ordinary human life. McGovern's style, in making these arguments, is deliberately quixotic, and a shade hyperactive, as if he barely trusts Arnott's powerful words to carry the weight of the play. Carry it they do, though; to a conclusion that has only become more telling, as definitions of terrorism and hate crime grow ever more far-reaching, and the morality of those in power ever more compromised, and contested. The Croft | Contributed There's no such gravitas, alas, about Ali Milles's touring play The Croft, at the Festival Theatre, which takes a potentially powerful drama about love between women across three generations - all connected to a remote seaside croft in the western Highlands - and makes the fundamental mistake of trying to turn it into a horror movie. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad An impressive cast give the show their best shot, with Gracie Follows and Caroline Harker as lovers Laura and Suzanne, and Liza Goddard as 19th century crofter Enid, all turning in bold performances. In the end, through, a dramatic script has to play to its strengths; and here, that strength lies in the portrayal of brave women trying to defy patriarchal thinking down the ages, rather than in the cheap suggestion of some nameless supernatural evil, lurking in the very stones of the place.
Scotsman
2 days ago
- Scotsman
The Haunting of Alice Gilfrey
Sign up to our Arts and Culture newsletter, get the latest news and reviews from our specialist arts writers Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to The Scotsman, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... The Haunting Of Agnes Gilfrey, Oran Mor, Glasgow ★★★ Youth's a stuff will not endure, says Shakespeare; but in the age of the tribute musical, it can be endlessly recaptured, and made to live again on stage. Jim Jacobs and Warren Casey's 1971 show Grease – later transformed into the 1978 global hit film – is a tribute musical in the true sense. Set in the autumn of 1959, it is one of the original high school musicals, and its much-loved songs – Summer Nights, We Go Together, You're The One That I Want, and many more – are all lovingly crafted in the bubble-gum pop style of the late Fifties. Grease at Pitlochry Festival Theatre PIC: Tommy Ga-Ken Wan To work well, though, a show like Grease needs a company who are themselves full of the rebellious energy and sheer joie de vivre of youth; and that's what the 2025 Pitlochry ensemble provides by the truckload, in the opening production of this year's main stage summer season. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad Co-produced with the Grand Theatre, Blackpool, Sam Hardie's Pitlochry-made production has already played a two-week run there; so the version that opened at Pitlochry over the weekend is already warmed up to sizzling-point. Working in the instruments-in-hand style perfected by Pitlochry musical director Richard Reeday, the 17-strong cast offer a sparkling display of quadruple-threat theatrical energy, as they act, sing, dance and play their way through the story of good girl Sandy, her beau Danny Zuko, and the Rydell High School gang who surround them. What makes the show a roaring success, though – despite the occasional rough edge and under-powered moment – is not only that energy, but the sheer underlying professionalism they bring to the task of making the story work, as a fast-moving two hours of theatre, plus interval. Blythe Jandoo is a beautiful, poignant Sandy, and Alexander Service a palpably decent Danny, with Tyler Collins and Fiona Wood fairly knocking the pinball out of the arcade as rough kids Kenickie and Rizzo. In the end, though, it's all about the ensemble, and the terrific collective spirit expressed through the big-number songs, and through Kally Lloyd-Jones's joyful choreography; and when they reach the final triumphant chorus of You're The One That I Want, the Pitlochry audience can hardly wait to leap to their feet and join in the jive, in one of those glorious celebrations of youth that never grows old. Manasa Tagica and Sarah McCardie in The Haunting of Alice Gilfrey at Oran Mor PIC: Tommy Ga-Ken Wan Youth's a stuff that can't be recaptured, though, for the central character in the latest Play, Pie and Pint lunchtime drama, co-produced with Mull Theatre. In The Haunting Of Agnes Gilfrey, by Glasgow based writer-performer Amy Conway, the central character Agnes is an outspoken Glasgow woman in her forties who loves her job in the film industry, but has recently fallen in love with, and married, a slightly younger man, an American actor called Jimmy, who is eager to become a Dad. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The pair are therefore undergoing fertility treatment, so far with no success; and when they arrive for a romantic break at a holiday-let castle on Mull – and encounter the very strange housekeeper, Mrs Carlin – Agnes soon begins to feel haunted by the unhappy spirit of a former lady of the house, whose sombre portrait hangs over the fireplace. The play perhaps spends a little too much time setting up this situation, and referencing various horror-movie tropes, before Agnes's story finally moves towards its crisis. The point it wants to make, though – about patriarchal pressure on women to have children, and on how even the nicest, funniest men can be complicit with it – is a powerful one. And in Katie Slater's production, Mary Gapinski, Manasa Tagica, and a poignant and hilarious Sarah McCardie as Agnes, make a fine job of exploring the tough moment of choice she faces; as she learns to embrace her own inner cailleach, or crone, and her right to grow older, without shame or regret.
