A comically dark piece that is skillfully performed but might leave you a little lost amongst its more abstract moments.Summary
Rating
Good!
How might a ghost of the past prove that they are indeed a worthy man? Well, they could hunt and butcher a great stag. Joseph and the Stag feels familiar: a man is haunted by his past, visited this time not by the ghosts of Christmas but the echoes of his father’s disappointment in a son that is more bard than butcher. The script is a clever look into the pressures of manhood, in a traditional sense; ‘man hunt stag, man butcher stag, man is true man’. What if that man is unable to bring himself to do the act?
The production starts calmly. Lucinda Freeburn, whose onstage presence holds a gentle strength, opens stage left, wielding her violin. In contrast, we are then thrown into the reckoning of a storm and what appears to be a homeless man dragging an almighty load, a sack, which we come to learn is the great stag itself. Sam John as Joseph, huffing and puffing, crosses upstage, clambering through the door and into his humble dwelling, which one can imagine is placed within a wooded land, and we’re pulled into the wilds of our story.
As a storyteller, John, who is also the writer of this tale, is captivating. His skill as a performer, demonstrated by his understanding of the through line, allows him to neatly step-change into the next beat. As Joseph, he is cheeky and easy to like, shining in his ability to connect with the audience – not shying away from our desire for entertainment. And we are that: entertained.
This production is funny. Freeburn and John make for a playful duo, in tune and matching each other’s gusto. Freeburn holds great skill in her violin playing, with the gliding and plucking of her strings supporting the ebbs and flows of the show beautifully.
The first half holds detail; detail that in some of the more comically vulgar moments makes the audience squirm with laughter. Notably, two buckets either end of the stage – one a resource of hydration and the other for bodily functions – are comically mixed up. This moment is symbolic of the physical comedy that underpins the tragedy of Joseph’s life and is present throughout.
Arriving in the second half, we’re introduced to the more abstract devices of the show, in its attempts to conjure momentum for Joseph’s introspection. The stag transforms into a pagan-spirit-like entity, which he is unable to turn away from. However, its presence doesn’t feel as threatening as might have been intended. It is of course, an uncomfortable image, this creature lurching on stilts into the intimate dwellings, but it doesn’t feel dominant enough and lacks impact. Further to this, the intention of the second half isn’t always clear, which, coming after the well-rehearsed first half leaves us looking for the hand that had been guiding us so well before.
The abstract, however, could work and it does have a place. The otherworldliness is something that I enjoyed in this production, but further investigation is needed into what it is trying to say. If that is found, then the creativity and boldness of these devices could really be impressive and impactful.
This production clearly has a team of skilled performers and creatives behind it. It’s a dip into a past land, but one that opens up a conversation on manhood, which feels modern in its questioning.
Writer: Sam John
Director: Annabel Lisk
Producers: Sam John & Ashna Rabheru
Creative Director: Joe Williams
Composer: Charlie Ratcliffe
LX Designer: Josh Munday
Joseph and the Stag plays at The Hen and Chickens until Saturday 10 May 2025
