Review of ‘Manhunt’: “Open fire”

The Royal Court hosts the world premiere of Robert Icke’s latest play, exploring the motivations of infamous spree-killer Raoul Moat. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know if he ended up being shot from it.

Men don’t cry. Men don’t feel pain. Men don’t complain. Men can’t be victims. Modern society has created a narrative of faux progress by alienating its scapegoat quite successfully. Of course, it would be insane to deny the oppression that minorities have suffered from through centuries – I, myself, belong to one of those. But the vilification of the so-called privileged group, purposely ignoring the complexities of our reality, and looking away when the slightest contradiction to their creed pops up, has done nothing but add more fuel to the hatred it tried to mitigate.

Robert Icke’s latest incursion, Manhunt, brings up further thought to the ongoing debate of men being let down by recent ideological climates. Recent television hits like Adolescence have posed the question about what should be done in a world where young males are becoming more radicalized – feeling, and understandably so, as if their issues are only destined for ridicule and dismissal.

Much like the series, Icke’s writing does not condole the actions of a spree killer. Raoul Moat committed heinous crimes, murdering his ex-wife’s partner, while also injuring her and blinding a police officer. But the human psyche is way more elaborate than the simplified, archetypical version that some want to believe – and more dangerously, insist on us believing it, too.

The play could easily be considered a contemporary, English reboot of Camilo José Cela’s The Family of Pascual Duarte. We’ve got a spree-killer, from a struggling background (both financially and emotionally), seeking understanding and redemption from the evil deeds he’s done. He’s got involved in atrocious activities, but that doesn’t make him bad per se. Or at least, that’s not what the text intends to present him as – but instead, someone fighting his personal inner hell, and screaming his grief out despite nobody listening.

The script does an excellent job at presenting an insightful vision of the protagonist’s plight – giving him a chance to speak out without justifying his behaviour. He’s not a monster. He’s aggressive, volatile, and frightfully menacing at many times. But he has the ability to love and show kindness to others – perhaps, the sort of gestures he was never offered at key moments of his life and upbringing.

Brilliantly structured, setting up a fast-moving rhythm through a multi-framing devices, the recount preserves its grip until the very end. Icke’s directional approach does a clever job at accentuating the dynamism of the piece – blending purely theatrical techniques with a few cinematic inputs through the use of live cameras and projections. The result is a complete triumph in terms of staging – effectively reinforcing the tone and duality of the scenes, while at the same crafting a visually arresting proposal.

It’s an intense 95-minute jaunt that’s not short of discomforting excerpts for the viewer – which is one of the reasons to think of it as such a delicious performing work. The connection with the characters’ strives is so well established that it almost hurts. And as a member of the audience, you can only hope for that abuse to keep coming.

The cast is not exempt from similar plaudits either. Their rapport and delivery is, altogether, truly exceptional – genuine, poignant, and remarkably absorbing. A first mention goes to Danny Kirrane for the effortless and always convincing versatility of his multi-role portrayal, as well as Trevor Fox , thanks to the high energy and charm that he brings to the part. Lead actor Samuel Edward-Cook receives the greatest praise, nonetheless – regaling us with an extremely compelling rendition filled with honesty and soulfulness.

Society makes its monsters – either by instigating their actions or granting them their titles. Under no circumstances should we think of Raoul Moat as a tragic hero. But Icke’s exploration of the trials and tribulations of an ostracised troubled mind brings thought and depth to a side of our nature that’s probably been oversimplified in the last few years. Its programme opens with a David Cameron quote, stating that “Raoul Moat was a callous murderer – end of story.” Which of the two is closer to fiction is for you to decide.

All pictures credit to Manuel Harlan.

Manhunt plays at London’s Royal Court Theatre until 3 May. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara