The Predicament of Jackson Scott

Dark humour isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but if the cup of tea in question is well brewed and with a splash of oat milk, then dark humour is certainly the cuppa for me. There is a fine line between what is funny and what is tasteless, however. Finding that balance can be a huge challenge, and when it comes to subjects like murder, mental health and sexual identity, there’s an even greater risk of falling into offensive and insensitive territory. In Black Hound Production’s new show, The Predicament of Jackson Scott, the wavering tight rope of risky dark humour is crossed with confidence.

Written by Josh McGrillen and directed by Lex Kaby, The Predicament of Jackson Scott follows the titular protagonist, Jackson Scott (played by Yves Morris) attempt to navigate his way through a particularly situation. The tricky situation being that he accidentally killed his boyfriend, Ted (Luke Ashley Tame), whilst having sex. Jackson’s decision to cover up the real circumstances of Ted’s death leads to an unexpected consequence; Jackson is now haunted by the ghost of Ted. Whether a manifestation of Jackson’s guilt, or indeed a supernatural spectre, Ted’s presence begins the inevitable snowballing of Jackson’s already dire situation, and as things get darker, the comedy becomes more biting.

This is, in essence, a story about the destructive power of denial. While in many ways this feels like a black comedy from the early-2000s, the handling of Jackson’s sexuality is at its most poignant when he openly denies his homosexuality. For me, comedy is at its most powerful when it treads into the boarders of pain, and while this thread of Jackson’s journey is somewhat overshadowed by the more zany elements of the plot, it nonetheless struck a chord. There are some excellent performances here, with Yves Morris bringing a laser-sharp tension to Jackson’s forever on-edge personality, and Luke Ashley Tame exudes natural comedic gravitas as the bolshy spirit of Ted. Alex Wallacot shines as the somewhat out of her depth grief counsellor, Alex Fitzgordon – a character who feels almost conjured out of the world of Stephen Merchant’s The Outlaws – and particular credit has to go to Cordelia Tarbrooke who stepped in last minute as best friend, Bernice Masterson. Tarbrooke’s assured performance was nothing short of incredible, following in the tradition of many COVID understudies of recent months. The paired down set, centred around Ted’s earth-filled grave, is beautifully designed by Patrick Withey, symbolising as much within the show’s physical geography as much as the cast that Jackson’s actions are now an indelible mark in these characters’ lives. While there are some elements of the writing that feel a little brushed over for the sake of laughs, this is an accomplished piece of comedy performed by an undeniably talented company.

Star Rating:

⭐️⭐️⭐️ 1/2

Alright?

Theatre is a place where the taboos of society are brought into the spotlight. In these almost sacred spaces shared by performer and audience, we can examine the things that are most uncomfortable or painful about our lives, or reveal parts of our history or cultural experience that have been forgotten or concealed. Theatre can be a great place of learning, about ourselves and about the world we live in, but most of all it can teach us to be compassionate as we view the world through another’s eyes and see how that world is shaped by their experience which may differ from our own. At least, this is what I believe, and certainly this new show from Black Hound Productions demands rightful compassion from its audience.

Written by Patrick Withey and performed by Dillon Berry, Alright? follows the story of Noah, a young man in his mid-teens who, while facing the stress of secondary school exams and the inevitable awkward encounters of teenage-hood, has been struggling with depression. With clever direction from Benjamin Hardy-Phillips, this solo show explores Noah’s struggles with his mental health through his interactions with the important figures in his life, highlighting the unprejudiced nature of depression, for even when a person is surrounded by friends and loved ones we can still feel lost in our own emotions.

Indeed, the power of this piece lies in the handling of what can be an incredibly heavy subject matter. While there is a tendency for pieces concerned with mental health and depression to fall into the realms of melodrama, Alright? walks the fine line between tragedy and comedy with focused care. Withey’s writing brings both shades of light and dark to Noah’s life as moments of levity allow for the bleaker moments in the script to become even more enhanced. There is a natural wit to Withey’s writing which Berry brings to life with skilled ease.

It is refreshing to see a piece about male mental health that does not devolve into violence. So often, narratives around mental health and masculinity become narratives about the worst excesses of these experiences. Indeed, recent films like Joker have been hijacked by the narrative of the white male malcontent resorting to acts of violence as a result of their frustrations. In reality, sufferers of mental illness are more likely to be victims of violence as opposed to perpetrators, yet while anger and frustration are key themes in this piece, there is little to no involvement of violence. More often than not, those of us who are impacted by mental illness will not have some dramatic occurrence happen to us; our mental illness is part of our every day reality and while it may evoke intense feelings or indeed, a lack of them, our world does not always descend into chaos. Alright? portrays the mundane nature of depression beautifully, whilst also highlighting the importance of having a support network. In a world where funding for mental health treatment is being slashed, this is perhaps the most important message that Alright? gives its audience – the importance of asking the right questions, checking in with someone and listening to them. While it isn’t a substitute for treatment, it is, as Noah’s final speech states, better to listen to a person express their difficulties than to listen to their eulogy.

While the final act of this show needs a little more focusing, this is a very moving and powerful piece of theatre. To see young men being given the space to show their vulnerability without the usual trappings of toxic masculinity is what makes this a unique piece of writing and makes it more than deserving of many future performances.

Star rating:

⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️