Review of ‘Harry Clarke’: “Rippling talent”

Screen and stage star Billy Crudup makes his West End debut in this psychological dark comedy celebrating its European debut. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know the high and low sides of this double-faced character.

“Questa  è la mia faccia”, whispers with ominous calmness the most skilled con artist fiction has ever produced. Several attempts have been made to match the genius of Patricia Highsmith’s distressingly charming creation. A character so twisted, manipulative and remorseless you would feel ashamed of yourself for sympathizing with him even a little. But not only do you do it – you become infatuated by him, trapped under his enigmatic allure and his remarkable capabilities to pull every trick he can think of to get away with anything. At the end of the day, you want him to win. Because deep down below, you wish you could be him.

Coming to the press night of a show that’s promoted as a mixture of Ripley and Saltburn is a deluge of conflicts. Announcing a new piece of theatre (at least, in London) as influenced by one of the greatest works of literary mystery, combined with what’s probably the biggest cinematic disappointment I’ve seen in a while, is perhaps not the best way to entice a critic – let alone raise any expectations. But if that’s precisely what they intended, then maybe we’re standing before one of the cleverest marketing campaigns the West End has pulled through.

Last evening, the Ambassadors welcomed Billy Crudup as a new chapter of his career was being written. Making his UK debut, the New York actor stood in solitary before the unprepared eyes of a few hundred. We had read the premise, but didn’t know much about what was about to be unveiled. A blackout, as lights suddenly return to reveal a weakly-voiced man who goes by the name of Phillip Brugglestein. “I could always do an immaculate English accent”, he utters. People chuckle at a joke which is not clear if it either comes from the personage or the performer himself. And just like that, its metaphysical power unravels. The rest is merely history.

Penned by David Cale, the story is a superb comment on the duality of the human essence. What we aspire to be and who we really are. How we present ourselves in front of others, and what we conceal behind those facades of conformism – the latter, sometimes, not necessarily being the reason why we use them, though. Crafting an extraordinarily convoluted, intelligent and surprisingly relatable role (I’m not a sociopath, I just think that everyone is an idiot – big difference), the script takes us through the ever-growing complexities dwelling within his mind, as Philip delivers a new persona (Harry) to escape from his former a life of grief and abuse.

An incredibly thoughtful look into the fragility hidden under the masks we build to protect ourselves, the plot manages to keep us hooked from its whole course – painting pictures with astonishing intricacy through its delightful choice of words, supported (and fair to say, enhanced) by Crudup’s captivating portrayal. Putting every possible performing hat on, Crudup’s rendition is genuinely a tour de force in every sense – moving from character to character with astounding ease, and giving so much identity to each of them, it’s hard not to be enthralled by his continuous display of artistic strength and versatily.

With direction by Leigh Silverman and with a simple, dynamic practical design (THANK YOU for bringing those back!) by Alexander Dodge, Harry Clarke is the upmost example of false advertising. It makes you think you’ll be watching something derivative. But it’s forceful enough to stand on its own. It gives you the impression that you’ll be facing something extreme and far-fetched. But you’ll be surprised how much of you you’ll see reflected onstage. And in the end, it will make you fall for its farce, in the same mischievous manner everyone else fell for that small-town man throwing his past self to the Hudson river and transforming into the Englishman he never was but always will be. We’ve all been Harry Clarke at some point of our lives. And his tale is as dark as it is brilliant.

All pictures credit to Carol Rosegg.

Harry Clarke plays at London’s Ambassadors Theatre until 11 May. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara