Mistaken identity, subterfuge or just straight up adultery? Faithful unionist Eric Miller (Roy Barker) can’t for the life of him work out how his granddaughter could bear such a striking resemblance to the man who represents the antithesis of his worldview: Irish republican politician and international celebrity Gerry Adams. On leafy Cyprus Avenue, divisions between Irish republicans and British-aligned unionists are as deeply etched as ever in Eric’s heart. He’s looking over his shoulder at the past, but everyone else is ready to move on.
As David Ireland’s darkly funny Cyprus Avenue zeroes in on the hyper-localised political tensions of Northern Ireland in the late 20th century, it also lays open the world like a mirror.
Anna Houston directs this Sydney premiere production with precision and grace, adding shades of nuance to its depictions of psychological ruin, unconscionable violence and political allegiances gone mad.
The Old Fitz is a tiny venue, siphoning the audience’s attention onto the stage. Ester Karuso-Thurn’s all-white set is eerie in its sparseness, and adds to the sense that not all will be well, despite Eric’s relatively unassuming figure in front of us.
We’re first introduced to Eric as he meets his psychologist, Bridget (Branden Christine). She is young and black, and to him, represents the world in chaos. “Are you an angel? Are you a demon?” he asks her. Christine does a stellar job of enacting the everyday struggles of deflecting racial microaggressions, smiling politely and soullessly as Eric insists that he “loves Africans” and he admires their “resilience” in the face of their tragic inability to govern themselves.
Eric’s allegiance to the British shows signs of faltering in his bleakly funny, reminiscent monologues, but if anything, his flashes of uncertainty serve only to bind him ever more tightly to his rambling, blinkered paranoia. Sometimes Barker’s delivery as Eric doesn’t hit the intended high notes of apoplectic rage, but he is mostly convincing in his darkly funny portrayal of a man whose single-mindedness gives way to forces more sinister.
In particular, a scene in which he reveals a curious method of confirming his delusions that his granddaughter is in fact Gerry Adams incarnate is a brilliantly timed and executed comedic moment.
Enter Slim, a renegade unionist from the housing estate nearby whose gun-toting charm is played to perfection by Lloyd Allison-Young. Allison-Young commits to his character with such precision and grandeur, you feel as if a young paramilitary really has walked on stage to interrupt Barker’s musings. Slim’s sharply swinging moods are the comedic counterpoint of the play, played with a rallying energy and an ability to transport us all to the dogged streets of Ulster.
But Slim’s comic relief only underscores the segregation and suspicion of the other that are the logic of Eric’s existence. As he faces the prospect of his daughter raising her child to be “nothing,” not Protestant or Catholic, not Unionist or Republican, he unravels. Amanda McGregor plays the dutiful daughter with poise and strength. “I’ll raise her to not be prejudiced.” In the face of this nothingness, Cyprus Avenue tracks the descent of Eric into chaos and internal destruction as he tries to overshadow the present with the past, barracking against what he feels is the denial and brushing aside of history.
A lot has been said about the grotesqueness of the gendered violence that ensues and trigger warnings have even been called for after performances in the UK. It’s a Sarah Kane level of on-stage abject gruesomeness, but it’s there for a reason. Eric tries to convince himself of his own sanity so much that any attention on his imminent descent into delusion is violently silenced. Anna Houston directs this turmoil with restraint and subtlety, creating space for the audience to feel the force of the play’s casual brutality, without letting it tip over into the gratuitous.
“We are under siege,” says Eric at the beginning of the play. “We must protect what we have”. Cyprus Avenue tracks the consequences of a world where the politics of hate and scarcity are taken to their chaotic and devastating hilt. In a world where identity still splinters cities and ordinary people are caught in the crosshairs of prejudice and populism, his words seem more frightening than ever.