In which the boy recounts an affecting, amusing, and ardent production where one rising star outshone all the big guns.
Top row: Messrs. Longbottom, Williams & Hathaway (of Potter, Who & Lewis fame)
Bottom row: Three men that should be more famous than they are.
A brief ‘gist’ for those not in the know: In the seemingly barren wards of an army hospital, five soldiers – three in one bay and two in another – are spending the majority of their time sharing stories, lonely hearts columns, and banter as they wait for the all-clear from their respective war-wounds. With the arrival of a young officer in the mix, tensions begin to feel raised, but the camaraderie of the boys brings them together. However, when an unfortunate incident takes place, accusations begin flying, threatening to tear the young soldiers apart.
Though equal parts funny and serious, perhaps the most interesting of emotions that this play made one feel was that of poignancy. Throughout Our Boys, we see growth – whether good or bad – from all six players. And that is easy for some to portray: Matthew Lewis, widely known by those fans of a rather more fantastical bent (ahem – he was Neville Longbottom, don’t you know?), spent the first seven years of his acting life maturing on screen. Arthur Darvill and Laurence Fox have had enough time in front of a camera – and, in fact, treading the boards – for them to know how to come across on stage.
But for me…for me, it was Lewis Reeves’ performance that blew the rest out of the water. In his West End debut, Reeves personifies the poignant as he plays Ian, a man who has suffered what seems to be irreparable damage to his body – in more ways than one – due to being caught in a bomb blast. Slowly wheeling himself onto stage in the first scene, the audience was silenced by his entrance over and over again, as we saw – over time – how his injuries were improving, his speech was coming together, and his sense of humour was increasing. Ian’s improvement over time is contrasted well with Fox’s Joe, as his mind slowly appears to be splitting at the seams; this evolution in characterisation for Joe – coupled with how he comes across as the ‘leader’ due to his length of stay in the ward and his lack of serious injury – leads to the show’s apparently overplayed climax; a climax, once viewed retrospectively with the scene that follows it, which seems understandable for the piece as a whole.
Cian Barry’s Keith and Arthur Darvill’s Parry have a continuing tension throughout the whole piece; Keith, seemingly able to dish the banter out but not take it, and Parry is ever the wideboy with his OTT tales and effortless wisecracks. Nevertheless, each member of the cast bounces off another with near-perfection, showing that the boys must get on as well off-stage as they act against one another on it. No clearer was this shown that during the Apocalypse Now drinking game. Absolutely class. Some terrible De Niro impressions though, boys.
Jolyon Coy’s Menzies, or “Potential Officer Mingies” – as Joe and Cian Barry’s Keith call him – was well formed; his snipped accent and privileged childhood shining through to elevate him above the original five instantly. On top of this, his and Reeves’ character defects are played out very well with physical acting, though Coy’s is rather more for comic effect due to its…well, embarrassing nature. (Which should pale in comparison to Matthew Lewis’ Mick, but there is less physical acting required for a circumcision than there is for an injured coccyx.)
Overall, the piece was quite fascinating in nature; at times, certain actors may have rushed their lines here or there, but that’s the nature of performance. The unpredictability of war matches the unpredictability of the stage; and as unprepared as they were for what happened to them, we were quite unprepared for where the story took us. Yet, once you were into the piece, there was no stopping the entertainment – be it comedic or tragic.
– TB
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