““Crippled Kinsmen” gets its hooks into you – it clutches at your throat, your vitals, and won’t let go“ – Garreth Cruikshank
Ever been in a relationship with someone struggling with drug &/or alcohol abuse? Every moment is fraught with danger; like walking through a mine-field wondering when something will explode. That’s the feeling you have watching “Crippled Kinsmen”.
Two brothers, Jake (Lucas John Connolly) & Damien (Ross Perkins) revisit the now derelict factory where there father used to work, ostensibly to celebrate Jake’s 40th birthday and to reminisce about their childhood, but the memories are tainted, or repressed. “You have a selective memory. You only remember what you want to”, Jake accuses Damien, the younger brother, who is in a wheelchair being pushed by Jake. It soon becomes clear that Jake has a very dark motive for undertaking this journey through time and space.
Though confined to a wheelchair Damien appears the more successful brother. He has a house and a thriving business. He’s in control of his life and his emotions. His physical restriction contrasts with the wildness of unemployed Jake, who careens drunkenly around the stage – a man out of control, a victim of his urges and passions. When Damien offers him a job to help him through a rough patch, he savagely rejects it. His constant biting of the hand that feeds him appears petty and nasty. Jake is the epitome of toxic masculinity, and it is no surprise that his wife has kicked him out. He is a lost soul resorting to drugs and alcohol to ease the pain of hatred for his brother, resentment for a lifetime of being overlooked. He is able-bodied but crippled inside.
And what has Damien done to deserve this resentment? He has fallen victim to a degenerative disease that has put him in a wheelchair, but, like all defenseless creatures, he has developed sophisticated coping mechanisms to survive, and in his case, thrive. Jake, however, has his measure.
There is something acutely unsettling about this play. It’s uncomfortable to watch – the ruthless, almost forensic way in which it cuts away the necrotic flesh, the result of a lifetime of lies and self-deception. We watch the brothers’ cat & mouse game of accusation and counter-accusation, anxiety slowly gripping our hearts as agonizing scene follows agonizing scene, as we anticipate the terrible climax. Time and again Maple’s script ducks & weaves, shooting off in a direction we hadn’t foreseen, but which, upon reflection, seems inevitable.
(In this) there is something of ancient Greek tragedy or Old Testament about these two warring brothers. It’s no accident that one of them is called Jacob (Jake). Maple appears to have adroitly adapted the story of Jacob and Esau, reorganizing the biblical tropes – the younger son favoured by the mother, who stays inside, who becomes lame, etc.
To do justice to this raw, brutal, yet ever so subtle and cleverly constructed script requires performances of equal power and nuance, and in Lucas John Connolly and Ross Perkins, Maple has those performances. Two moments stood out for me – Connolly/Jake’s writhing on the floor in frustration, rage and psychic agony was heartbreaking. Perkins/Damien’s description of the seduction of Jake’s wife had the entire audience on the edge of their seats; the intense focus was palpable; you could have heard a pin drop.
One concern is that there are so many quick-fire emotional shifts & turns in the narrative that the rapid pace of the dialogue doesn’t allow the actors to always let the magnitude of what they are saying land. We aren’t given the opportunity to see how each new revelation impacts the hearer. (The actors need time to react, and the audience needs time to see the reaction.) This, I suspect, is due to the constraints of time imposed on productions during the Fringe Festival – plays have to fit into a 1 hour time slot. Also, the play is so fast and unremittingly bleak that one can emerge feeling like you’ve been hit by a runaway truck, but the same could be said, I suppose, for Macbeth or Medea.
As difficult as it is, sometimes, to watch these two damaged men eviscerate each other, “Crippled Kinsmen” gets its hooks into you – it clutches at your throat, your vitals, and won’t let go. At the conclusion you may not burst into rapturous applause, but you’ll still be thinking about it long after the dust has settled.
Garreth Cruikshank, Theatre Now
