The Unicorn introduced us to the aptly named playwright David Ireland, thanks to the black comedy UlsterAmerican, repeated this winter in the great room. Short play offered in a 5 to 7 format in the rehearsal room by the Théâtre Bistouri, Not now is also anchored in the history and culture of her native Northern Ireland. We also briefly recognize, in one of his dialogues, a debate – which was central to the very caustic satire – around the identity of the characters, the Protestants living in Ulster: are they Irish or British?
Having just buried his father, young Matthew (Antoine Nicolas) is preparing to leave for London to audition at a renowned theater school. He repeats his scene Richard III when his uncle Ray (Jean-Sébastien Lavoie) bursts in. Layman as he is, Ray gives his opinion on what his nephew should audition and how. Advice that exasperates and then shakes the aspiring actor, who begins to doubt. Unsure of himself, shouldn’t Matthew play instead Hamlet ? And should he even leave, while he is grieving?
As between Hamlet and his uncle, the ghost of the father will come to interfere between the protagonists: Matthew reveals that he now knows a secret surrounding his father’s past. The young man then revolts against the family lies, which are linked to the “Troubles”, a bloody period in Northern Ireland – some references contained in the dialogue surely had more resonance for the British public.
Without being as hilarious asUlsterAmerican, Not now amuses at first, in particular with the cultural gap separating Matthew, the follower of Stanislavski, and Ray, the house painter who hardly reads, but owns the adaptations of Shakespeare on DVD. There are, however, somewhat easy comic effects, such as the uncle’s inability to memorize proper names, he twisting those of several celebrities.
But in less than an hour, David Ireland deftly navigates from comedy to seriousness, from theater to history, family and national. And ultimately, the play directed by Marc-André Thibault draws a beautiful portrait of a character who, beneath his somewhat heavy and rough exterior, turns out to be rather touching, carried in a very credible way by Jean-Sébastien Lavoie.
And what underlies the text — the colonial relationship between Ireland and England — may recall a familiar situation here. Ray, although ambiguous in his own relationship to his homeland, which he encourages his nephew to leave, insists that the latter play Richard III with his own voice rather than borrowing the polished accent he considers appropriate from Shakespeare. It is therefore a question here of assuming one’s own national identity and one’s cultural heritage.