Coarse habits

First appeared: Evening Star, Ipswich, November 10, 2006

The Seduction of Almighty God
by Howard Barker
The Wrestling School, at Colchester Mercury Studio until Saturday

IT was not a good year for the monasteries – 1539, with Henry VIII's commissioners roaming the country closing down the old institutions and laying claim to their wealth.

Not a good time for a young novice, filled with the passion of God and the certainty of youth, to be embarking on a monk's life.

The clash of times is immediately signalled as central to Howard Barker's new play. There is young Loftus (Leander Deeny) in rough medieval attire, while the abbott (Peter Marinker) brandishes an umbrella. The brolly, and the bike ridden in by another monk, are obvious anachronisms, but really no more out of their time than Loftus's garb or attitude.

And that, I suppose, is the point. There are also, in passing, points to be made about religious conviction, about sexuality, about business and politics – but none of those themes are much explored, no point made that isn't fairly obvious.

Ultimately, this is not so much theatre of ideas, or psychological drama, as theatre of the absurd.

You could say it is about coarse habits – both the rough cloth worn by Loftus and the sordid sex play indulged in by many of those around him.

Or you could say it is about power – the questionable power of God, as transmitted by the inspired and dangerous novice, versus the real-world power of king and business.

When Loftus tries to debate his religion, he is distracted – as the audience may be – by doing so while staring at a woman's nudity.

I get the feeling this is all supposed to shock, but if so it has missed its time by a couple of decades or more, which is perhaps appropriate.

It is at least highly entertaining, and acted with style and conviction.

Marinker is a powerful presence, and Deeny's portrayal of Loftus is astonishing. Whether standing in mute thought, writhing in inspired mental agony, laughing hysterically or cutting suddenly between moods, he has an intensity that is riveting.

You can believe, and almost understand, the power he exerts over others.

If, in the end, the play seems somewhat less than the sum of its parts, his part at least is sheer bravura.