Review of ‘Vermin’: “Rat-sodic acting shines through unpesticided writing”

London’s Park Theatre welcomes Benny Ainsworth’s psychological two-hander, featuring complex love relationships, dark humour, and a rodent murder. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show to let us know if its rat-targeting narrative turns out to be the cat’s whiskers.

It’s nothing short of unsettling that I came to see this play on the very day that Charlie Kirk’s harrowing death dominated every viral slot on social media. For those who haven’t seen the video yet, please refrain from taking that step forward — it’s an excruciating watch that will certainly haunt you. But what’s even more shocking is how I was constantly reminded of such gruesome imagery by a potentially new Jeffrey Dahmer-wannabe character who took pleasure in killing and mutilating animals for the mere sake of it. By the way, before you ask, this is, in fact, a comedy — sort of.

No, the script doesn’t advocate for animal cruelty — quite the opposite. But be prepared to hear a few excessively detailed descriptions about how all these poor creatures (from insects to rats, and a white, clichéd villain cat) are brutally slaughtered. And also, be ready to feel terrible about yourself. Maybe as a coping mechanism or perhaps because you truly found it funny, but you will laugh — at least, once or twice.

Benny Ainsworth’s writing holds an uncanny grip throughout the entire performance. It’s not pleasant to experience, and still you don’t want to hop off the train — no pun intended (you’ll understand a few lines below). Two equally unstable characters meet for the first time during a massive tube delay — probably, the most resonant scenario any Londoner has ever encountered in the theatre. A man has thrown himself onto the rail tracks, and it will take some time for the station to resume its normal activity. It was then that, amidst the gossip, gasps of terror, and blood splatter, love was born.

The story doesn’t take any high roads from then on. You’d better buckle up for what’s coming. There are no ghastly visuals except for the ones your mind will paint. But contrary to the saying, every word that’s uttered will be worth a thousand pictures — and none of them are pretty. The piece does a decent job of accentuating the recount’s pathos. Beyond all the horrendous moments you’ll be regaled with, there’s an underlying path of universal human suffering that instantly clicks inside the viewer — rushed to some degree, but compelling on the whole.

If this vivid illustration is putting too many bad thoughts in your head, you might be relieved to know that this intense journey (to put it mildly) is only 60 minutes long. But that’s also the tricky part about it. Besides gorging on every atrocious detail, the characters are not as well-developed as we would have hoped for in such a psychological narrative. There’s still so much to explore and too much that’s left untouched. It has all the key elements, but the dots are yet to be connected — leaving us with an uncomfortable feeling of deprivation, cutting us off for no reason and without explanation.

Structured as a two-hander with some occasional metatheatrical strokes, both actors convey an extraordinary emotional drive in their renditions. Their livid approach still flaunts an engaging comedy bone that makes their roles likable and inviting. Some moments do exhibit disproportionate hyperbole, an unavoidable trait given the nature of the material, but which can only work as long as the performers are holding the leash and not the other way around. In any case, their chemistry is deliciously palpable, and though the most dramatic excerpts aren’t blessed with the greatest realism, the overall impression is considerably satisfactory.

Rat-tling the spectator’s cage through an ongoing stream of monstrous acts, but still able to entice them through its ambivalent tone and striking prose, Vermin proves itself as a piece of moderate quality that’s yet to explore many of its possibilities. It may not be plagued with flaws, but there are enough bugs to call it an unfulfilled effort, with most of its potential remaining, as of now, under the carpet. It’s fine to bring black humour and death to a play, but hastiness is the true pestilence.

Vermin plays at London’s Park Theatre until 20 September. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara