'The Shitheads' review — this imaginative debut play features love, violence and prehistoric puppetry

Read our review of The Shitheads, co-directed by Aneesha Srinivasan and David Byrne, now in performances at the Royal Court to 14 March.

Summary

• Jack Nicholls makes an impressive debut with his play The Shitheads at the Royal Court
• The production is co-directed by Aneesha Srinivasan and David Byrne
• The violent but very funny story is set in prehistoric times
• The strong cast is supported by imaginative puppetry by Finn Caldwell and and Dulcie Best

It’s not often you encounter a prehistoric-set play, but Jack Nicholls’ imaginative debut features characters living thousands of years in the past.

It opens with an elk hunt, the creature itself brought impressively to life as a full-sized puppet (designed by Finn Caldwell and Dulcie Best), a thrilling start which introduces us to protagonist Clare (Jacoba Williams), a bloodthirsty hunter who persuades the likeable Greg (Jonny Khan) to tell her his story before bludgeoning him to death and eating his brains.

The action then moves to a cave, home to Clare’s family – gruff patriarch Adrian (Peter Clements) and naive, berry-loving little sister Lisa (Annabel Smith). They consider themselves lucky to dwell in such rocky splendour, compared to the “shitheads” who live outside, so it causes consternation when Clare invites Greg’s widow Danielle (Ami Tredrea) and young child (also in puppet form) to stay.

Nicholls is a published poet and it shows in dialogue which is rhythmic, philosophical, and often very funny. It revels in its own ridiculousness; the fact the cave contains a floor lamp, chair and rug – there's even a cheeky cameo from a Sports Direct mug – alongside hanging bones and wall paintings (the design, by Anna Reid, is superb) neatly mirrors how the story happily exists in both the present and the past.

A central theme is the idea of violence as a love language for the family, whose unbridled joy in death (Lisa merrily plays with Greg’s skull, plaiting its hair) is entwined with their clear affection for each other. Adrian, frustrated by his physical demise and haunted by the loss of his partner, sees no irony at all in the fact his family sanctuary is adorned by skeletons. “The only thing you can know is what’s between your teeth,” he tells Clare, berating her love of stories (though he gladly displays his fondness for dancing).

The first half is engrossing and the palpable tension following Danielle’s entry to the cave bubbles nicely for a time, but things run out of steam and the latter half feels sluggish by comparison. The production, co-directed by Aneesha Srinivasan and Royal Court artistic director David Byrne, struggles to keep up the early momentum and by the – predictably violent – climax, my emotional investment had waned. But there’s a nice little coup de théâtre coda hidden in the cave wall (mention must go to the moody soundscape by Asaf Zohar and lighting by Alex Fernandes).

The ensemble, which is completed by puppetry captain Scarlet Wilderink, are excellent and the play explores some interesting territory in a uniquely theatrical way. It makes an especially fitting choice for the Upstairs given its clear echoes of the in-yer-face generation. Nicholls seems a natural inheritor of Sarah Kane and Philip Ridley (who, surprisingly, has never been produced at the Royal Court) in his muscularity of language, proliferation of non-sequiturs, and unblinking savagery. A talent to keep an eye on, no doubt.

The Shitheads is at the Royal Court to 14 March. Book The Shitheads tickets on LondonTheatre.co.uk

Photo credit: The Shitheads (Photos by Camilla Greenwell)