Twinkly charm and tongue-in-cheek wit abound in poet Tony Harrison’s latest crack at paying homage to the medieval tradition of the mystery play, the dramatised cycles of biblical stories mounted by English communities in the pre-Shakespearian era. But emotional engagement and a real sense of awe or spirituality are missing from Deborah Bruce’s lengthy production, as is the sense of community that may have been gained from something less overtly northern.
The first half is good fun, a hi-octane romp through the Old Testament and much of the New. Paul Hunter is superb as a shifty-eyed chancer of a Lucifer and a deranged Herod (who marvellously declares: ‘I am bright in bling, kowtow to Herod, the kid-killing king’), while David Hargreaves is perfect casting as a hard-faced Yorkshire God who assembles the world from flatpack. Bruce fills the show with some fine flourishes: a scene pastiching Da Vinci’s ‘The Last Supper’ is particularly inspired.
Unfortunately the second half loses clarity and pace. William Ash’s hippy Jesus lacks charisma and gravitas, and the production’s joshing around robs his death of poignancy. Sure, it’s funny when the blokes in charge of the crucifixion take pictures on their mobiles, but it undercuts any sense that we should feel moved. Still, the glibness mostly makes for a fun night, not least in the climactic final scene, where the groundlings are divided into ‘saved’ and ‘damned’ camps with amusing arbitrariness.