Is it a parable? If so, what is it trying to teach? Is it an allegory? If so what does each of the components represent and if it’s a metaphor, then for what? These elements always hover over Jez Butterworth’s The River at the Greenwich Theatre. Don’t expect answers, but do appreciate the literary quality of the writing.
Don’t expect any answer, but do appreciate the literary quality of the writing
The characters have no names; they are simply people caught in a situation. The Man (Paul McGann) occupies a seasonal cabin by the river that as a child he stayed in with his uncle, who introduced him to the world of fly-fishing and told him stories about women he brought to stay. Now, as a man he has become like his uncle; obsessed with fish and females. He can catch and devour both, yet does so with a calm, meditative passion. He is inspired by poetry and vivid descriptions of sunsets, of which he has seen so many he feels he can ignore the one The Woman (Amanda Ryan) begs him to observe through the kitchen window. But he has to pack his basket for one of the greatest fishing nights of the year.
So far so good. We have a lonely man finding comfort in the company of a woman to whom he professes love, while she appears content with his low-key approach to romance that nevertheless includes having sex. But then when she leaves the room it is The Other Woman (Kerri McLean) who returns and takes up where her predecessor left off. Do all the women in his life merge into one? Is his life on permanent replay and is his ultimate consolation only in the constancy of the seasons that bring the trout back every year?
This is a subdued production with performances that are sincere and flow very gently within the realistically detailed cabin set by Emily Bestow, aided by mood lighting from Henry Slater and a delicate soundscape courtesy of Julian Starr.
