Review: FATHERLAND, Hampstead Theatre

A life coach and his struggling daughter embark on a journey to find their Irish roots. Each of them is running away from something. Joy, who is exceedingly against the idea of leaving for an unplanned trip with her father, is going through a bad breakup; Winston, overly chatty and intrusive, is trying to forget the lawsuit that threatens his so-called career.

Nancy Farino’s debut play tries hard to be profound. It looks into how our need for connection is the answer to many of our problems, but – much like its characters – it doesn’t know how to communicate its ideas. Directed by Tessa Walker, Fatherland might as well be a pedestrian radio drama.

On a long, empty thrust stage (designed by Debbie Duru), Farino (yes, she’s also in it) and Jason Thorpe sit around, pretending to drive for much of it. Winston pries, Joy gets defensive, they bicker. Their scenes are interwoven with earlier moments in the timeline when he is discussing the proceedings with Shona Babayemi’s Claire (he’s been accused of professional negligence). Thorpe and Babayemi’s plot is by far the most interesting of the two, but, like the rest, it falls short in pace and excitement. Throughout, the exchanges feel unnaturally scripted, and the sudden shifts in tone don’t work.

Joy retells her dreams in an attempt to add symbolism. We believe that the desolate landscapes that haunt her nights are somehow meant to expand the insight into her situation, but Farino doesn’t draw a steady line between the factual and the oneiric. Walker’s visuals don’t help either. Snow drops lightly while wheeled chairs stand awkwardly to the side. The characters follow suit with their bland mix of mundanity.

Winston is one of those middle-aged men who feel attacked by modern society. “I’m not allowed to say [insert whatever range of semi-insensitive reference you wish here] anymore, am I?” he often says. Oblivious to how annoying he is, he tries not to be a misogynist, but slips and lands right into it. His daughter overanalyses everything due to her unmistakable abandonment issues, wielding her vape like a safety blanket. Where Joy is petulant and closed off, he is irritating and evasive. They both try to fix others when they should be seeking to fix themselves.

There would be some value in there if they were matched to a solid storyline used to make a point. This isn’t the case. Besides the fact that nothing of note really happens, the stagecraft is blatantly lacking and the direction comes off as thoroughly uninspired. Their journeys are stunted and any reflection you may be able to associate with their circumstances is insipid. There is virtually no character arc.

Still, Thorpe and Babayemi manage to deliver remarkable performances, even with their roles being steeped in cliches. Thorpe has something Steve Carrell-esque about him. The best performance in the cast, he is waspish and energetic when Winton is helpless, aloof and pernickety when he fails. There’s positive tension between him and Babayemi; she's a no-nonsense lawyer who’s just trying to do her job, and he is the eccentric client who doesn’t seem to understand the gravity of the claim that’s being made against him. 

On this occasion, Farino is meek in both her acting and her writing. She tends to present her script in upspeak with a look of wide-eyed surprise plastered on her face. The distinctive lack of rhythm and inconsequential study of the human sphere makes the 100-minute runtime slack. It’s, at once, too long for what it is, and too brief for what it could be. Perhaps the theatre simply isn’t its rightful home. The sequence where Claire and Winston listen to a tape recording, looking immobile, unfortunate, and uncomfortable, is proof of this. As a play, it's regrettably too boring and garrulous.

Fatherland runs at Hampstead Theatre until 29 November.