Observing a possibly cannibalistic civil insurgency ashore, two isolated sailors experience the grotesque impact of the last centurys contribution to warfare. Alan McKendricks humorous yet chilling script paints a disturbing picture of psychological rather than nuclear desolation.
The over-educated, libido-driven Hemingway finds himself, after a college recruitment drive, stationed on an observation platform with a dry and war-hungry female captain, Megan. While the affable but daft Hemingway wants to use the long, lonely shifts to work on his writing process, Megan excitedly interrupts him with loaded hints, eventually forcing him to ask, Do we have a big red button hidden around here somewhere? Hemingway may be petrified by the prospect, but the idea of babysitting a weapon of mass destruction gives Megan enormous job satisfaction: Nothing like nuclear war to stir the loins. As the days go by, they consider how, when and where such a strike could, should and eventually, it seems, must be made. In time, Megans warmongering infects Hemmingway too, and instead of destroying Montmartre or Marseilles (selected because one couldnt possibly attack a place with an ugly name), it destroys the two of them.
Drew Friedmans Hemingway is charming, but Stephanie Violas Megan steals the show. She is mesmerising as the trigger-happy captain, her eyes glinting and mouth practically watering at the thought of a full-blown nuclear strike. McKendricks script is superbly tight from start to finish and the simple set, comprising four benches and few props, works perfectly in the limited space. One sympathises with Hemingway and Megans insane tedium while never for a moment experiencing the same as a member of the audience.
