Review: THE FIFTH STEP, starring Martin Freeman and Jack Lowden

Plays like The Fifth Step don't come around often. Those whose layered philosophical exoskeleton sublime their own dramatic contradictions into quietly superb theatre. At its core, though less pure black comedy and more complex introspective drama coated in dark irony than what you’d expect from David Ireland, it has that delicious push-and-pull that only Ireland can write.

It’s a potluck of themes. Alcoholism, recovery, resentment, masculinity, spirituality, family, class, what-have-you populate a play that’s as tense as it is caustic. Luka’s reticence to join the AA’s 12-step program abates a little when James becomes his sponsor. An hour and a half of unbroken intensity and reflective exploration of the aforementioned themes unfolds.

Directed by Finn Den Hertog with grating emotional grit, it’s not comfortable and provides you with homework. Neither Den Hertog nor Ireland spoon-feeds you what to think. It’s up to the audience to unpack much of what’s being said. The debris of addiction and the hubris of sobriety coexist in two extraordinary performances by Jack Lowden and Martin Freeman. The show starts off very healthy. Tracksuit and Nike shoes, Lowden introduces Luka, a Scottish lad who doesn’t see a place for him in the world.

He is a bouncy, nervous wreck, in direct contrast to Freeman’s James, a business casual Englishman who gives off the collected confidence of a man who’s made recovery his life mission. The audience breaks into easy laughter at their delivery of Ireland’s script. On the surface, there’s a lot of diabolic straight-edge grim comedy, indeed. Underneath, Ireland synthesises the contemporary social malaise, from the so-called “male loneliness epidemic” to the raging misogyny of today’s society.

They denounce Britain’s drinking culture, pushing forward the link between alcohol and masculinity with sinister, crude humour generated by Luka’s filthy language and James’s quiet, deadpan alarm at what he hears. Freeman smiles benevolently as he tries to connect with Lowden. In turn, the latter wrings out his hands until they’re lobster red and strides restlessly. He chews the inside of his cheeks, struggling to voice his depression and suicidal ideation. When Lowden paces, Freeman stills; a bundle of chaos versus apparent calm. 

Den Hertog’s vision materialises in the precise pacing of the dialogues and the clear division of physical movement. He toys with the flow between the two bodies, shaking the scenes up regularly so that one of the performances turns waspish and prompts another thematic juncture. Once the jig is up, the balance found in the first 45 minutes flips onto its head. Freeman’s performance explodes into its full potential, making us question who the serene, placid guy from the start was. Added to Lowden’s minuscule changes in bearing, we have a mesmerising spectacle of acting prowess set up by Ireland’s extraordinarily pliable writing. 

As paranoia settles, James twitches, waving his finger in admonishment at Luka’s newfound trajectory. Thus, addiction gains additional nuance. The underlying sadness of the pair finally fully frees itself from the comic slant it was given, revealing the real fallout of substance dependence. The paragon of well-adjustedness falls from his ivory tower in a thrilling confrontation that crackles with energy.

Lowden and Freeman engage in a game of trauma hot potato, blaming everything but themselves in an exacerbation of their power struggle. The precarity of sobriety emerges with cruel beauty. This raw, coarse angle of the story also reflects in Milla Clarke’s empty rectangle of a stage, where even foldable chairs are transient beings. This is an exceptionally well made, highly addictive drama. The run is virtually sold out; good luck trying for tickets!

The Fifth Step runs at @sohoplace until 26 July.

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