Two halves of a whole
On a set that reaches higher and higher away from the auditorium of Donmar Warehouse, Rory Keenan is about to take off himself and Paul Reid is engrossed in being a master of disguise. Not in the traditional sense mind, but Reid masks his feelings with a careful intensity that he seems desperate to break.
He plays the public front of Gar O'Donnell, a 25 year-old with American dreams and an imminent departure awaiting him. He's off to live with his Aunt Lizzie who's already made the move to the States and now he's about to leave behind his surly, quiet father (James Hayes) and his quick-witted elderly housekeeper, Madge, played by the no-nonsense firecracker that is Valerie Lilley.
While Reid's character, the public facing Gar is composed, contemplative and daunted by the prospect of actually getting what he's always wanted, his private side, played by Keenan, storms across the stage scaling the walls with energetic stories of the promising future and the skewed past that Gar reassesses internally. They are two halves of a whole, sewn together with sychronised movement and overlapping speech.
There's little subtlety to this script but under Lyndsey Turner's direction there is great subtlety from the cast. Writer Brian Friel explains a lot for us but since Private Gar is so effervescent, bubbling below the surface, it makes sense that we learn not only Gar's secrets but the secrets of what he's observed. He's seen Madge, a frail, grey woman who stayed in their small town of Ballybeg, long for her own family. So watching her come head to head with Lizzie, her bold, colourful counterpart is no surprise.
The monotony of Ballybeg is predictable too but demonstrated with humour and affection as Gar's father and his old friend repeat the same stories. With their lines slowly dripping from the mouths of Hayes and Benny Young (who plays Canon O'Bryne in a stereotypical but nonetheless funny role), age allows them to bask in the comfort of history but Gar with his youth is frustrated by it.
He's at an awkward impasse where his own friends seem like louts (they kind of are) and his inability to make peace with the one that got away still haunts him. By the end of the play you're rooting for this young guy to make a success of himself and this night you've shared of his life has become a reference point for both the character and his audience. Should Gar looks back in 30 years time, you'll be able to nod along at the memories of the loud internal world masked by the quiet external one he so wanted to escape.
Philadelphia, Here I Come! runs at Donmar Warehouse until 22nd September
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