Sunday 20th January 2018, matinée
Having seen two plays by David Grieg, the chilling Letter of Last Resort put on as part of an excellent season of plays about nuclear weapons, and The Kid, a disturbing exploration of drone warfare, we were keen to see more. A revival of ‘Outlying Islands’ at the King’s Head, brought to us by the producers of the fantastic East at the same venue, promised some intriguing subject matter.
The story is a simple one – two young men, fresh out of University, are chosen by the ‘ministry’ to spend what might be their last Summer of freedom on a remote Scottish Island studying rare seabirds. It is 1939 and what seems at first to be a dream posting takes a very dark turn indeed. The play explores the culture clash between the escapism of the young men, who want to immerse themselves in what they see as the simplicity and power of raw nature, and the escapism of the locals, in particular the island’s owner, Mr Kirk, who is desperate to find a buyer so that he can sell up and escape to ‘civilisation’.
Enforced isolation brings out the complexities of all their relationships. Grieg’s writing is skilled, rich in subtext and full of dark power. His characters are complex and well-drawn, relatable but not stereotypical, and the pace is carefully controlled. We feel the boredom and routine, and a vague sense of doom. There is a political context too, with the young men soon discovering that they are not on a nature trip at all, but a grim ‘inventory of life’, in preparation for a weapons-testing programme that they only hear about by accident. The personal and political blend perfectly, as the naive young men come to terms with the realities of war while the tough old landowner calculates the compensation he will receive with every sheep and bird that goes ‘out of commission’.
The four-strong cast do a fantastic job of carrying us away to this distant and evocative land. Tom Machell as Robert and Jack McMillan as Johnny have a convincing sense of cameraderie, bringing a youthful intensity to their relationship which sometimes feels like that of an old married couple. The arguments which we sense have taken place too many times to mention, and the multilayered bond of shared passions, ambition, and unrequited love. Johnny is febrile and neurotic, an unlikely adventurer, and Robert, dashing and edgy, fulfills the role of the reckless lone wolf only at great personal cost. Together they are by turns over-earnest and hilarious.
Ken Drury as Mr Kirk exudes toughness, common sense and humour in equal measures, with a terrifying turn in religious zeal, targeted mainly at his niece. Rose Wardlaw is Ellen, Mr Kirk’s niece, who has been ‘contaminated’ by exposure to ‘the movies’ and is full to bursting with earthly desires, whether for humour, stories or sex. Wardlaw creates a complex character who, though often silent, always has an inner life. Watching and waiting, she is the catalyst and life-force who changes everything. Her impatience is infectious and compelling.
We couldn’t finish without mentioning the set, another triumph for this venue, which always seems to manage to create an immersive atmosphere in a very small space which enhances the production. Here we have a minimal but convincing evocation of the semi-underground ‘hut’, and the added bonus of an almost indescribable ‘smell’ which certainly lives up to the numerous exclamations by the characters of ‘it stinks in here’! Definitely a multi-sensory experience……..