Kerri McLean and Paul McGann in The River at Greenwich Theatre. Photo credit: Danny with a CameraMcGann’s turn as The Man in Jez Butterworth’s 2012 play THE RIVER is perhaps a curious choice for a name in the biz, for the play itself is a tangle of poetry, imagery, mysticism and unresolved questions. It is also less renowned or celebrated than the playwright’s other major works The Ferryman and Jerusalem.
A woman (Amanda Ryan) stares out of the window of a cabin, marvelling at the sunset. She calls out for her companion to join her to witness the extraordinary spectacle. Instead, he drifts into the room, occupied by preparations for his night-time fishing visit to the nearby river, where he plans to catch sea trout. Besides, he has seen it many times before and although distracted and focused elsewhere, describes the sunset in exquisite detail whilst ensuring he has every item of fishing tackle he’ll need. There is a freshness to the pair’s intimacy suggesting they have not known each other long, but a sense too, that something deep, profound and potentially long-lived could develop should their connection strengthen through shared experience — including a night-time fishing excursion.
After a momentary pause, the lights come up and the man is attempting to call the police to report the missing (potentially drowned) woman. Abruptly, a door slams and a triumphant voice calls out and his fear evaporates, but the woman who enters - slightly stoned and carrying a fish - is an altogether different woman (Kerri McLean) and we realise we are witnessing an earlier assignation. The conversation whilst similar, has distinct differences and after several more instances where the women swap places, as an audience we become attuned and accepting that the story requires us to travel back and forth, searching for hints and silvery, slippery clues in the dialogue to explain events. A fish is caught, gutted, cooked and eaten, but outside of that, very little of material consequence occurs. And yet, the moments of stillness, poetical soliloquising and ethereal descriptions, cast a spell of lyrical beauty over the play which is difficult to ignore and entirely captivating.
Performances last 1hr 20mins without an interval and the play runs until 27th October.
