Killer is essential, dirty, horrible, necessary, original, spine-tinglingly delicate and brutal in equal measure, irrevocably stained upon your mind for hours after, and wholly inspiring.Written by Phillip Ridley (Tender Napalm, Mercury Fur) Killer is playing in rep with another Ridley play - Pitchfork Disney - until the 8th April at Shoreditch Town Hall. Both of which are directed by Jamie Lloyd (Faustus, The Ruling Class).
An immersive show, the audience are led down into the depths of Shoreditch Town Hall, where your foot can get wet walking through oddly deep puddles, the ceiling gently throws ceiling confetti on you and you don’t feel all that safe. Like I said immersive.
We are greeted succinctly and politely by the man in this one-man show - John Macmillan (Yerma, The Homecoming). Macmillan possess - importantly - an exceptional voice, but - more importantly - he is able to tell a story comfortably and effectively without being seen. He’s utterly brilliant.
He spends quite a bit of time making sure the most important aspect of the production is working correctly — that being the headphones we will be wearing for the next 90 minutes. He delivers this prologue in a succinct, nay blunt manor that immediately demands our respect, our trust, a few laughs and maybe a little intimidation as well.
The next 90 minutes are made up of three separate characters each delivering one monologue in three separate rooms. The first has us sat down in a square with Macmillan prowling around the middle of that square. He tells the story of a young guy who wants to join a gang called the ‘SSS’ ; we follow his journey in doing so from the simple beginnings of morning runs to the final, unfinished moment, which I can’t spoil, which acts as one of the single most upsetting experiences i’ve had in theatre. It’s superbly placed by director Lloyd, and Macmillan’s performance is stomach-wrenchingly brilliant.
The second and third are equally dark in their humour and content, each showcasing Ridley’s exceptional talent to write in a manor where the images he depicts - however bizarre, absurd and unreal - are easily plausible, and are written so beautifully that you can’t help but allow your imagination to snack on them. The earphones - mixed in with the darkness we were almost constantly in - are a perfect device for truly appreciating the ability of a writer like Ridley; a lesser one would have been exposed as shallow, obvious and unexciting by this production, but it fits Ridley’s writing like a glove…wait no…like Bose Earphones.
This is a complete theatrical experience, crafted by some of the real greats working today and I couldn’t compliment it more, but perhaps the biggest compliment comes from this: while leaving I overheard two teenagers, who had seen the show, say “that was so, so cool, we’ve got to join the drama club at school”. Bravo, Killer.
My favourite productions of Shakespeare have always been the ones in smaller theatres where you're sitting so close to the actors that they can cut the sound and fury necessary to fill a big venue and instead bring subtlety and nuance to the extraordinary text. With the right actors this can turn the densest Elizabethan verse into a gripping psychological thriller.