Gallowglass
When Ruth Rendall wrote as Barbara Vine, as was the case with her 1990 novel Gallowglass, it was to signal to her reader what they could expect from the text. The antithesis of the Wexford whodunits, the Vine novels are populated by dysfunctional, and frequently unlikeable, misfits, trapped by unfortunate circumstances, largely of their own making, into doing something grim. The key to these works was her uncanny ability to get inside the mind of a killer, or rapist, or kidnapper, so that we the reader might empathise with – or at least understand why they might carry out – their terrible crimes. Dramatising her work without the benefit of that internal voice presents a unique challenge – unfortunately it is one that Margaret May Hobbs, in her literal minded, leaden adaptation, has sadly failed to rise to.
The fulcrum on which Gallowglass balances is the abusive, claustrophobic relationship between the guileless Joe Herbert, a damaged product of foster care and mental institutions, and the unhinged Sandor Wincanton, the man who saved him from a suicide attempt. Joe is indebted to Sandor, but without the benefit of Vine’s seductive, persuasive prose, his willingness to become Sandor’s gallowglass – an unquestioning, selfless servant – remains inexplicable and unconvincing. Dean Smith does a fair job of presenting Joe as a malleable puppet, but Joe Eyre is not nearly charismatic enough to make sense of Sandor’s ability to pull his strings. Eyre appears out of his depth in this pivotal role, and though blame must be shared with director Michael Lunney for indulging Eyre’s grandstanding, single note performance, neither were helped by a text denuded of all nuance and subtly.
More concerned with galloping on to the next plot point than genuine character development, Hobbs appeared to be intent on cramming as much of the novel on stage as possible, which inevitably led to lengthy passages of clumsy exposition and seemingly pointless subplots as the action flitted from Paddington to Colchester to Southwold and beyond. It should be said that these transitions are achieved with considerable stagecraft, with an effective mix of back projection and “split screen” set design, but it was at the cost of momentum. Richard Walsh and Karen Drury both gave journeyman performances that were perfectly fine, yet their scenes, and their characters, could have been entirely exorcised from the drama without ill effect, had a more judicious sense of pace been brought to bear.
More successful was the father and daughter relationship between Paul Opacic and Eva Sayer. Opacic, as bodyguard Paul Garnett, managed to communicate genuine warmth and affection to Sayer, surprisingly convincing as his twelve year old daughter. When Nina Abbott, played by Florence Cady, becomes more than the object of his protection, we see some of the stronger scenes of the play, as all three work hard to invest life into their ersatz happy family outing on Southwold beach. Even here, however, the truncation of Vine’s narrative proved problematic, most notably when Opacic’s declaration of love seemed to come out of nowhere, causing an audible ripple of disbelieve from an already restless audience. It was left to newcomer Racheal Hart’s appearance to inject some much needed zest into proceedings, with her spiky Tiley finally galvanizing the anti-heroes into action, but it was too little, too late. As the production limped home with an anticlimactic conclusion, leaving unresolved subplots and missed opportunities in its wake, there was just time for a final, and frankly incomprehensible, codicil before the play drew to its sorry end.
Tellingly, some of the audience had already started shuffling out before the curtain call, a sure sign that this had been a disappointing evening. Judging from the brevity of the actors’ final appearance, it was a disappointment they sensed and perhaps shared, despite doing their best with an unimaginative and lacklustre treatment of what should (had Hobbs had the courage to properly re-imagine Vine’s central themes) have been a visceral and forensic examination of obsession, love and betrayal.
