At the centre of every story is a ghost story. Or, at least it is so at the centre of this one.
Directed by Hannah Goodwin, with a script penned by Grace Chapple, Never Closer begins with us meeting a quintet of friends, on a night of goodbyes. Deidre (Emma Diaz) is regaling a ghost story of her own to her teenage compatriots — Jimmy (Raj Labade), Mary (Adriadne Sgouros), Niamh (Mabel Li) and Conor (Adam Sollis). The group have come together (with Irish whiskey aplenty) to bid farewell to Niamh, who is soon off to London to study medicine, and ostensibly their own youths. There are evident dreams to be realised. And above all there is a youthful hope. Dreams and hopes that are necessary when living in a Northern Irish town in 1977, where the Troubles haunt and loom.
Cut to a decade later, and these hopes and dreams have all but completely disappeared, as perhaps they tend to do. The years weary, and the ghosts cling tighter. The quintet have an unplanned get-together again on Christmas Eve, all trooping into Deirde’s living room one by one. Even Niamh is back, after years of radio silence, with an unexpected British fiancé Harry (Philip Lynch) in tow. Tensions, political and personal alike, run high, and festering wounds thought to be healed are reopened. But what hurts more? Leaving, or being left behind?
Such a premise means there is loaded meaning in everything. In every line of dialogue, in every action, gesture, and moment of silence. These are friends who have grown up together, who know intimately where to dig and what shovel to use. Chapple’s greatest strength here is her acute awareness of this intimacy. The script itself is a ticking time bomb, relying on such pent-up hurt and unresolved trauma of both the characters and their environment, to heighten the claustrophobia of a friendship that no one can let go of.
The performances by the ensemble cast, needless to say, were nothing short of spectacular. Beyond the believability of the accents and inflections, coached superbly by Laura Ferrell, there was an evident trust and camaraderie between all the performers that aided to platonic, and romantic for a few, chemistry on stage — a necessity to all plays that operate with this kind of locked room, single-location story. Sgouros and Lynch were particular standouts, with Sgourous’ Mary diffusing every fire with a sharp wit and well-timed interjections (and, of course, a not-so-fire-safe bottle of whiskey), and Lynch’s Harry’s bumbling British mannerisms, outsider status and lack of an alcohol tolerance adding the much needed touch of humour.
Some of the intimacy and claustrophobia of the story does get lost slightly in the largeness of such an open theatre, despite the homey design of Grace Deacon’s set. In saying that, such loss does get offset at the necessary climaxes with extremely well-conceived lighting changes and sound design (lighting by Phoebe Pilcher; sound by Alyx Dennison).
Ultimately, Never Closer is both a ghost story, and a story about ghosts. By its end, some are laid to rest. The others, it seems, are still waiting to be found.
Never Closer plays at Belvoir St Theatre until June 26. Tickets can be found here.
