Reviews
Reviews
User Review: 11Jan01: The great wave of Irish talent that has hit the London stage since Wilde has been largely Catholic, rural and funny-lyrical. But there's an odd man out. [Gary Mitchell] is Protestant, urban and casts his plays in the form of thrillers. In the case of The Force of Change, which galvanised the Royal Court Upstairs in the spring, this area is the RUC under pressure: pressure from the peace process and pressure from UDA sympathisers pressure to reform, and pressure not to cave in. Three officers - one a woman, one corrupt, one (the superb [Stuart Graham]) harsh and effective - interrogate two suspects, and each other, to explosive effect. In [Simon Higlett]'s original design, the play was staged in a long strip, with the actors pacing like laboratory animals in a cage the audience, banked on either side, were the walls of the trap. This sensation is lost in the larger, less malleable space of the Theatre Downstairs: at preview, the voltage dropped slightly. But, under [Robert Delamere]'s direction, the prickly complications of the constabulary's psychology are still forcefully projected. And this makes The Force of Change a minor revelation. User Review: 11Jan01: With outbursts of corruption, collusion and sexism in two police interview rooms, Gary Mitchell has concocted an exciting theatrical battle of wills and personalities. Stuart Graham's bright young constable Davis, who abhors the practice of promoting women detectives and prefers to put his faith in the RUC as a force that rules with unofficial force, authoritatively sounds The Force of Change's chilling notes. For Davis's intransigence and sense of grievance against British compromisers disturbingly reveals a mind-set entirely opposed to the main lines of change. [Robert Delamere]'s taut, tight production now boasts inappropriate flashes of rather heavy metal music between scenes. But the performances, in service of this revelatory play, are uniformly stamped with power, persuasiveness and conviction. User Reviews
Observer (11Jan01): The great wave of Irish talent that has hit the London stage since Wilde has been largely Catholic, rural and funny-lyrical. But there's an odd man out. [Gary Mitchell] is Protestant, urban and casts his plays in the form of thrillers. In the case of The Force of Change, which galvanised the Royal Court Upstairs in the spring, this area is the RUC under pressure: pressure from the peace process and pressure from UDA sympathisers pressure to reform, and pressure not to cave in. Three officers - one a woman, one corrupt, one (the superb [Stuart Graham]) harsh and effective - interrogate two suspects, and each other, to explosive effect. In [Simon Higlett]'s original design, the play was staged in a long strip, with the actors pacing like laboratory animals in a cage the audience, banked on either side, were the walls of the trap. This sensation is lost in the larger, less malleable space of the Theatre Downstairs: at preview, the voltage dropped slightly. But, under [Robert Delamere]'s direction, the prickly complications of the constabulary's psychology are still forcefully projected. And this makes The Force of Change a minor revelation.
Evening Standard (11Jan01): With outbursts of corruption, collusion and sexism in two police interview rooms, Gary Mitchell has concocted an exciting theatrical battle of wills and personalities. Stuart Graham's bright young constable Davis, who abhors the practice of promoting women detectives and prefers to put his faith in the RUC as a force that rules with unofficial force, authoritatively sounds The Force of Change's chilling notes. For Davis's intransigence and sense of grievance against British compromisers disturbingly reveals a mind-set entirely opposed to the main lines of change. [Robert Delamere]'s taut, tight production now boasts inappropriate flashes of rather heavy metal music between scenes. But the performances, in service of this revelatory play, are uniformly stamped with power, persuasiveness and conviction.
"I hate that. You just sit in these rooms with these bastards saying nothing all day. Tell me, do you think the UDA actually hold little evening classes in some pub somewhere where they teach these guys how to f**k us off". Gary Mitchell is an unflinchingly honest chronicler of life within the Protestant community of Belfast. Leaving his familiar territory of the Rathcoole Estate, Mitchell turns his focus onto the RUC and the topical issue of collusion with the Loyalist men of terror.
