Mercury Fur: Theater review by David Cote
For Philip Ridley’s dystopian shocker to make sense, it helps to understand it as a very late and overwrought example of British “in-yer-face” theater. The informal movement flourished in the 1990s with the violent, lurid plays of Sarah Kane (Blasted) and Mark Ravenhill (Shopping and Fucking), and has long since given way to more thoughtful, nuanced work by the likes of Nick Payne and Lucy Kirkwood. Mercury Fur, first produced in England 10 years ago, feels doubly dated: Its depiction of drug-addled, amoral teens seems very ’90s, and Scott Elliott’s belated NYC premiere comes off as early Adam Rapp at his bleakest.
The Rapp vibe comes from the action being relocated to New York and the characters’ dialogue being Americanized, but those are just superficial. The grungy, hyperactive thriller unfolds in real time in a trashed and abandoned apartment where brothers Elliot (Zane Pais) and Darren (Jack DiFalco) are throwing a party. When the “party piece” they keep referring to turns out to be a drugged-out Asian boy they dress up like Elvis, we realize we’re in for a nasty night. The sweet Naz (Tony Revolori from The Grand Budapest Hotel) befriends the brothers and helps with the preparations, pausing to deliver a gruesome memory of his mother and young sister being butchered and raped. Everyone gets a chance to share a tender recollection of horror or lost innocence. Emily Cass McDonnell, as the blind and delusional Duchess, lightens the pretentious grimness with her feathery, quavery voice and genteel presence.
Ridley can wax punkishly poetic, and the young actors work hard, screaming themselves hoarse, running frantically around a dark, cluttered room and getting drenched in stage blood. But Mercury Fur (two intermissionless, numbing hours) is strictly for those who have never seen the “in-yer-face” spectacles it strains desperately to outface.—David Cote
Pershing Square Signature Center (Off Broadway). By Philip Ridley. Directed by Scott Elliott. With ensemble cast. Running time: 2hrs. No intermission.
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