The Man In Two Pieces, Theatre Upstairs

It's 1921 and Kerrigan's Vaudeville Troupe is still touring the country, setting up their tent in a field outside towns. On show is the Adonis, lifting the weights to the eager crowd, although he keeps missing his beat recently; 'there's no narrative to it anymore', Kerrigan tells him. In contrast, The Great Gustavo has his act honed, but is a bit restless. Then there is the narrator of the piece, known only as The Boy, who sees the acts one night and steals away with them, won over by the tent, the lights and vaudeville itself, seeing in it a place to belong. At the centre of the troupe is Kerrigan, a towering vaudevillian, who knows what the people want and how to deliver. But times are changing in Ireland, and attitudes too, forming the landscape in Gerard Adlum's debut play.

The boy is more descriptive in his narration, with Adlum himself moving between the boy and the remaining characters through a change in accent or pose, his likability always there. In monologue or dialogue, Kerrigan has a presence that rises above everyone else, the 'heart' of the troupe as he says himself, and the heart of Adlum's play. From his entrance in a long, dark coat, complete with hat, to the singing of a vaudeville style song, written by Adlum and Nessa Matthews that captures the style well, with a delivery that has a hint of Jolsen, to a simple glance or stare, no matter what is happening your eyes are drawn to Kerrigan.

Stephen Brennan's Kerrigan is superb. The authority and presence is brilliant. He doesn't want to know his acts' back stories, perhaps because he doesn't want his own story told. With every movement, pattern of speech, the checking into the wings as he introduces the act, it is a masterful and knowing performance. There was the feeling that Kerrigan as a character in this actors hands has a life beyond this one act play. Adlum, playing alongside, moves between characters very well, but Brennan steals the show, something Kerrigan himself might approve of.

All of this is played on a tent stage setting, the curtains draped across the back-wall, bunting hanging in front of it, and a paraphernalia of suitcases, the Adonis's barbell, and other items, fill it up. Gold, shell like footlights finish it off, and we know this is a theatre past, music hall even. Vaudeville itself. The production is something of a nod to it, a time past, but looked on with affection. Director Sarah Finlay moves us from on stage to off in simple ways, such as a walk around a case, or a change in lighting angle.

Kerrigan is the heart and soul of this play, as the lights dim and he tries to fit into changing times, brought to life with skill and depth by Stephan Brennan. The narration moves at a steady pace, a gentleness to it all as it gives a nostalgic glimpse into a bygone day, when Vaudeville was the entertainment, before times changed. An interesting new play, with Brennan's Kerrigan truly the heart and soul of it all.