After a well-received short run at the proscenium arch Royal Lyceum during the Edinburgh International Festival 2024, David Ireland’s The Fifth Step comes to the intimate space in-the-round @sohoplace for a slightly longer run in an, of necessity, new configuration on Milla Clarke’s simple set, few props, an empty space.
A boxing ring space, perfect for male sparring, with audience visible on all sides... Lizzie Powell’s lighting, and sound designer Mark Melville’s interesting musical choices, mark scene shifts and keep the momentum rolling along nicely.
Jack Lowden reprises his role and Martin Freeman replaces Sean Gilder—quite different actors. Ninety minutes straight through of to and fro masculine polemic, persuasion, a younger / older man dynamic (Clarke’s costumes defining their status): the actors run with it in a masterclass of subtle development and rising tensions. We hang on to their every word. Freeman (James) in a quiet role that seeks to diffuse Lowden’s (Luka) volatility—their real accents bringing musicality to the score and suggesting their distance from each other.
Alcoholism is the subject, its causes, its addiction, its remedies, the AA twelve-step programme, which some challenge these days. A hyper, jittery, jumpy Luka and a seemingly calm, holier than thou James are member and sponsor—that’s what mentors are called. Jack has been dry twenty-five years and knows what he is talking about. Or does he? Is he laying it on thick, too patronising? Passive aggressive masculinity under the microscope… is it a cover for not feeling good enough?
To Johnny Cash’s “I’m just an old chunk of coal, But I’ll be a diamond some day”, knees juddering, the young Luka spills his beans openly and innocently—he seems to have no filter, physical or linguistic. Lowden gives a close-up, honest performance of great intensity, easily surfing the waves of Ireland’s vernacular.
Right, cards on the table. Luka comes from an abusive background, an alcoholic father, little education, and has a porn addiction, masturbating twenty times a day (“can’t fuck without a drink”). He tells James he thinks he’s an incel... can’t get laid because he’s ginger.
That makes James sit up and his jaw drop—James has sex with his wife three times a year. Married with a son not much younger than Luka, he’s had his issues but now he’s here to guide Luka through that difficult fifth step, the confessional one built on trust. Keep out of pubs, even for a Diet Coke, is another piece of advice: “you don't go to a brothel for a kiss”… but it’s balm, “pussy on tap”.
If you’ve come from the background Luka has come from, trust is nigh impossible. Would you take the risk and share with a former alcoholic male? James tells him to believe in something, but Luka is an atheist. James says, you don't have to believe in Jesus—this paper cup will do… what!? He also talks of Gay AA and his brush with it, and you don't sponsor a woman, though he did once. Hypocrisy raises its head. Luka gets confused, as you would.
Hypothetically believe… Luka takes him literally—finds a new religion in the gym workout where he meets ‘Willem Dafoe’, who keeps pace with him. Remember Ireland’s Cyprus Avenue—he likes the surreal. Luka has seen a few films that have made an impression… Is he simple? Remember James Stewart in the film Harvey? I’ll say no more.
Anyway, surprise, surprise, he goes to church—for the community—where he finds Jesus and meets an older woman he fancies. James, in the role of lay ‘priest’ to whom confession can be made, takes this badly. It triggers his hidden insecurities, and his affable father figure unravels, blows are cast (movement by Jenny Ogilvie), words are said, his veneer is penetrated.
Ireland says it's personal, based on similar experiences, so he knows of what he speaks. I imagine many of us in the audience do, too. Two thirds of the way through, I think I can see where this is going. Well not quite, Ireland is subtler than that. The ending is a joy, daft and revealing of how we need signs to help us believe. Who is the gullible one now?
A slight premise taken to amusing heights by performances that lift it to another level. Good to be able to laugh at afflictions. How the double act keep their faces straight throughout when all around them is loud laughter is a mark of thespian control.
“4,000 tickets or 15% of all available tickets will be priced at £25”—grab them quickly. Directed by “rising star” Finn den Hertog, associate artist at NTS, it’s a must-see. Two generations under the microscope.