Physical theatreReviewsWest End

Review: Not a Word, Barbican Centre

MimeLondon 2025

Summary

Rating

Excellent

A wordless reflection that through mud and music screams of subjugated humanity, the true wealth that extreme poverty discloses, and the anguish of exile

MimeLondon‘s directors, Helen Lannaghan and Joseph Seelig, routinely bring extraordinary theatre to the stage, and this year’s festival is no exception. This time round, Galway-based Brú Theatre’s Not a Word offers a hugely resonant production, exploring the experience of Irish Navvies and evoking a searing insight into the human condition by way of mud and music.

The production begins with a soundtrack (Jenny O’Malley) combining electronic music and fiddle playing. It hints at an Irish setting, whilst giving a timeless quality as traditional meets contemporary. A small red bulb illuminates a picture of Jesus – both lights in a dark world. It’s then that a weary man, thick with dust and carrying a shovel, enters the room. His face is entirely masked by thick clay, grotesquely distorted and almost subhuman. The earth is from whence he comes, and to where he will return. But that earth speaks of multiple existences: one his daily manual labour to survive, whilst his distant homeland is a spiritual other.

This is a play that, by inviting us to pay attention, observing the minute details of one man’s life, gives validity to and understanding of the experiences of many. Raymond Keane’s superb performance captures an entire working class demographic, as faceless, he gives visibility and silent, he gives voice. Through his physicality and ideas of memory in objects, the mundane becomes highly charged and tragic. Keane’s tiniest movements are revelatory: a few dance steps remind us that this man-shaped object has humanity; resting on a hard chair, there is no comfort in his ‘home’. He is simply unable to tear away the thick clay of this enforced life that overwhelms his face.

It’s clear that wearing this mask literally has an impact on how Keane is able to perform, causing him to sometimes reach clumsily to open a door or to move uncomfortably, but this speaks to the story of a man redefined by unassailable struggles. Indeed, there’s a weight to everything on the stage which underscores the back-breaking effort of working to exist, and the impossibly ubiquitous dust of labour is physically invasive and inescapable.

There’s a wonderful depiction of the need for bread and roses as the vivacity of Ultan O’Brien’s beautiful, sensitive fiddle playing injects colour into a monochrome, arid existence, or describes the emotional turmoil of a man dispossessed of the landscape and culture of his homeland. SJ Sheils’ lighting design also brings moments of vivid, active light to the grey, suggesting an alternative reality that bears energy and life.

The clever set (Andrew Clancy) is sparsely populated, containing little furniture, all of which is tainted by dust. But not one object is wasted in telling a tale of poverty and struggle, or a life that could be very different. Our man has few personal items but they disclose unseen truths. There’s an incongruous silver butter dish fouled by dirt, and a smart suit, shoes and tie, which all belong to a different version of himself. Limits are defined by wall and floors, but we’re aware of an intangible border as he strains to be seen by humans in the outside world through an invisible window; a barrier created by enforced circumstance.

Keane’s final exit, human face partially exposed, leaves the piece feeling a little unresolved, as does a poem about exile read in Irish, which the audience were also handed to take away in translation. But perhaps this, too, comments on the inescapability of material requirement and the terrible places to which it can take us, where human connection is subsumed to lost possibility and sacrifice is essential to achieve more than simply existing.


Artistic director: James Riordan
Produced by: Jill Murray
Lighting design by: SJ Sheils
Sound design by: Jenny O’Malley
Set design by: Andrew Clancy

Not a Word has now completed its run at Barbican Pit, but you can read more about the production in our interview with Brú Theatre’s Artistic Director James Riordan here.

Mary Pollard

By her own admission Mary goes to the theatre far too much, and will watch just about anything. Her favourite musical is Matilda, which she has seen 16 times, but she’s also an Anthony Neilson and Shakespeare fan - go figure. She has a long history with Richmond Theatre, but is currently helping at Shakespeare's Globe in the archive. She's also having fun being ET's specialist in children's theatre and puppetry! Mary now insists on being called The Master having used the Covid pandemic to achieve an award winning MA in London's Theatre and Performance.

Related Articles

Back to top button