When Shane collides with Úna in a nightclub, it launches an avalanche of spilt drink, spilt tears, and spilt home truths that stretch over their five-year relationship. Sarah Reid and Matthew Blaney play the two protagonists: an abrupt, feisty, straight-talking daughter of west Belfast, and a middle class, academically minded, south Belfast boy. At first the couple are delightfully awkward, with wind-up merchant Úna taking the lead before agreeing to give a long distance romance a try when Shane flies off to study law in London.
The audience first meet the couple who are in a pensive and reflective mood – as well as a tad sleepy and hungover – after a reunion that reeks of uncertainty. Episodic flashbacks fill in details of their earlier courtship, before and after Covid, as well as before and after Úna’s loss of a close family member. While socially loud, Úna is – at least at first – emotionally self-sufficient. But Covid and caring responsibilities flip that on its head. And then jealousy enters via a fissure in the friendship.
Director Ewan McGowan-Gregg (The 4 Worst Things I’ve Ever Done) creates a believable intimacy between the characters – and the performers – even though they barely ever touch. Devised by the cast and creative team in the rehearsal room (assistant director Beth Strahan, Rory Gray and Rosie McWilliams are credited along with the director and actors), the show conjures up a very neat ‘full circle’ ending that looks great on stage. However, it requires some agile jumping up and down the couple’s timeline to fit the parts together and that slightly distracted me from the action on stage.
Rory Gray’s bifurcated lighting design can split neatly the two sides of Shane’s sofa into light and shade, heralding flashbacks and scene changes in an instant. Reid acts with her fingertips and her shoulders, signalling confidence as well as anxiety and distress, and is forever catching the eye of audience members as she opens up Úna’s heart rather than simply staring through them.
The fulcrum of the whole play comes about 60 minutes in when Shane makes the speech of his life, heartfelt and finally in tune with the woman standing in front of him. It’s a powerful moment that Blaney nails with a striking intensity and a sense of understanding Úna’s vulnerability.
A more modest story would have riffed off Shane’s rugby playing and turned him into a yobbish lad. A cheaper depiction of Úna would have used her ex-boyfriend as a means to seeking forgiveness. A less assured team of writers would have insisted on tying everything up with a saccharine-rich conclusion. Five Year Stand requires none of these old notions and instead crafts a tale where, despite their wonky bond, there’s a deep respect and active demonstration of consent on show. Very modern, and totally flying in the face of most theatre that requires the opposite to be true for dramatic effect.
Five Year Stand’s run in the Grand Opera House upstairs studio continues until Saturday 29 June. I’m so glad I got to see this during its first run. It’s a real treat and the sharpest piece of new writing I’ve seen in the first six months of 2024.
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