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Lie Of The Land | Reviews

REVIEWS

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Evening Standard - 22nd August 2008
"A fine way to start a day on the Fringe would be to head to Lie of the Land, a gem of a new piece by Torben Betts"

Rural idyll proves another lost Eden

A fine way to start a day on the Fringe would be to head to Lie of the Land, a gem of a new piece with a craftily punning title from Torben Betts.

We've all dreamed of escaping city life for a rural idyll but, as Betts has characters him and her conclusively discover, if recapturing Eden had been easy there would have been no need for a New Testament.

In their freshly acquired house by the sea, him (Neal Barry) and her (Nia Gwynne) struggle to relax and to adjust themselves to the nothingness and lack of striving they thought they had craved.

The nervy Gwynne, privately convinced that she has married beneath her, is especially fine, making her daily yoga look like training for a particularly ferocious martial art.

Stylish direction from Adam Barnard ingeniously delineates boundaries - both literal and metaphorical - through white marking tape on black floor.

Yet him and her are about to learn that it's not all about them: there's a wider world outside, one that might not have much longer left to turn.

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Metro - 21st August 2008
"The fractured, hypnotic dialogue is superbly brought to life by Nia Gwynne and Neal Barry"

Life in a bleak house in Lie Of The Land

'We have inherited a house, a house in the country, a house by the sea.' So begins Torben Betts's savage new play in which a newly married couple leave the city for a new life of solitude and self-sufficiency. Following the award-winning The Unconquered, Betts again indicts middle-class complacency in this terse two-hander.

The fractured, hypnotic dialogue is superbly brought to life by Nia Gwynne and Neal Barry. Its poetic rhythm would be lulling were it not for the sea's ominous swell and the swooping of low-flying aircraft threatening the couple's fragile peace.

With scenes introduced by fuzzy, silent movie-style descriptions on a screen behind them, the pair seem contented at first, the woman busying herself with thoughts of babies and a novel and the man with fishing and local history. A sense of resentment simmers, however.

Divided by class and aspirations, the distance between them is revealed by Adam Barnard's meticulous direction. As the waters rise and what remains of civilisation threatens to catch up with them, personal happiness in the face of environmental devastation is shown to be as futile and impossible as genuine connection with those we hold dearest. There's little redemption up for grabs in this powerfully bleak piece.

Until Aug 25, Pleasance Courtyard (V33), 12.30pm. www.pleasance.co.uk

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Times - 17th August 2008
"Eerie and unforgettable"

(from Christopher Hart's Edinburgh review)

Lie of the Land (Pleasance Courtyard, 4 stars) is an odd little gem by Torben Betts. It starts with the well-worn premise of an idealistic urban couple fleeing the city for a new life in the countryside. Neal Barry is the stocky Essex-boy husband and Nia Gwynne is hilarious as his wife, wide-eyed, fresh-faced, helplessly English and hopelessly naive. There’s a weird, awkward poetry in the non-naturalistic dialogue. “We shall people this place with little children,” she cries. The story takes a terrifying apocalyptic twist, and suddenly the city they scorned, but were beginning to long for again — restaurants, cinemas, crowds, even traffic — is no longer available. All they have left is nature itself and “the uncaring sea”. The director, Adam Barnard, and sound designer, Steve Mayo, have added powerfully ominous sound effects, and the final image of an ancient, wizened man sheltering from the storm in the church porch, playing his violin even as the waters rise up around his waist, seems positively biblical. Eerie and unforgettable.

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