Lord of the Flies

William Golding’s extraordinary novel was written in 1954, with a world still reeling from the horrors of the discovery of the extent of Nazi brutality and fearing for it’s very survival as the cold war accelerated. It tells the story of a group of British schoolboys left to their own devices when their plane crashes on a deserted island. The depths to which these boys sink, and the breakdown of any sense of order or civilised behaviour in a very short space of time is both shocking and compellingly inevitable.

This adaptation (uncredited in the program) is strong, and manages to keep the essense of the book. It’s too simple to call the piece a morality tale about good and evil, and many have seen it a warning about fascism, communism, anarchy and even Satan. In fact all the clues are in the text. It’s actually about the potential in every single one of us to lose the human part of us and become something much less, much darker, more animal, and it’s about how society tries to control those urges.

I’ve seen several versions of this story down the years, a couple of them at this Festival, and of course there is Peter Brook film version. All of those have suffered from one thing – the cast were too old. The true shock impact of the book is that these boys are aged twelve and younger. They aren’t moody teenagers, they are children. This production uses actors of exactly the right age and it is moving and shocking because of it. It’s chilling to hear some unbroken voices shouting “kill, kill, kill the pig!”

All the kids are good, but Jack Stileman is convincing as Ralph the voice of reason who tries desperately and in vain to keep his fellow castaways civilised. His nemesis is Benedict Roe as Jack, the choir leader, who leads his mates down a path of savagery and bloodlust which leads, eventually to two shocking murders. I must single out Harry Asbee as Eric, who was totally focused, truthful and still when he needed to be, not something that could be said for some of his feet shuffling, slightly nervy co-actors.

That’s the trade off, I guess; authenticity of age means some of the acting is less good than one would get with older boys or professionals. A couple of other niggly production points (which I only make because the show is otherwise enjoyable). The conch (a symbol of democracy and authority) is pathetically small and really needs to make a proper sound – this could have been done with recording. The head of the pig – a vastly important symbol – needs to be stuck on a pole as suggested in the script, not lie on the floor – this too could have been achieved with a little thought.

These are minor carps, however, and apart from being enjoyable, this is an important play, reminding us of the prescience of Golding’s original. From the Third Reich to football hooliganism to Abu Grave, tribe mentality and the break down of decency and respect for others that it leads to will always be with us. The boys on that island are scared of the beast, and the lesson they learn is that the beast is inside them, inside all boys and men.

Golding was naive in only one thing. I watched a documentary on happy slapping the other night, and in one particular clip a young person was savagely kicked and punched by a chanting mob of other youngsters. They might as well have been chanting “kill the pig”. But they weren’t on a desert island; they were in a shopping mall.

And they were all girls.

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The Blurb

Golding's classic ... performed for the new millennium! Feltonfleet@TheFringe return following sell-out shows in 2005 & 2006. *****

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