Just what can be forgiven? It is this painful, engrossing, question that fills much of this captivating adaptation of Fran Kranz’s film Mass, performed with exhilarating intensity.
Kranz’s stage adaptation is faithful to the original film, and much like that award-winning piece, this production pushes its performers to the limit across 100 frightfully intense minutes. Set in a quiet church meeting room, two couples torn apart by unimaginable tragedy face off to interrogate their awful, unimaginable, shared past.
Directed by Carrie Cracknell, it is a production that almost exclusively centres upon a table and four chairs, gently revolving as grieving, furious, Jay (a brilliant Adeel Akhtar) and Gail (a quiet, destroyed, Lyndsey Marshall) want answers from Linda (Monica Dolan) and Richard (Paul Hilton) after their son, a school shooter, murdered Jay and Gail’s.
There has been a lot of theatre about restorative conversations and justice in the wake of horrendous events. While James Graham’s Punch hits a poignant if not slightly too righteous message, Sarah Power’s Welcome to Pemfort was far more ruthless in why, sometimes, you just cannot move on or accept the past.
With Kranz’s Mass, what lands instead is something more in the middle, and the payoff of this production is its extraordinary delivery by its four leads. Jay, now an anti-gun campaigner, bubbles subtly away in a terrific performance by Akhtar. His explosion is a matter of when, and not if, and when it comes, roaring with pain and anger, Akhtar is utterly compelling. Meanwhile, Marshall’s Gail, completely eroded by grief, takes time to find her voice, cradling physical memories of Evan, and with a deft subtlety that creates a sense of grief that is instantly believable.
Yet what elevates this production even further is the pair on the opposite side of the table. As shooter Hayden’s mother, Linda, Dolan is superb in bottling a rage, blame, and incomprehensible devastation that permanently fizzes in tears shed and a shaking posture that Dolan remarkably keeps up for the entire piece. Linda’s character, who has a stunning resolution at the end of the play, is the script’s most intriguing and compelling character, reconciling with her own action, or inaction, towards her murderous son, which is captured with poise. Alongside Dolan, Hilton’s upright Richard at first glance looks a deflective father, refusing to accept blame in a case that has haunted the pair since it happened, yet this, like for the other three, erodes, and Hilton’s reserved pain, when coming to the fore, is striking.
Indeed, Kranz’s reflection on the impact on Hayden’s parents as well as Evan’s works well here. Richard and Linda’s social isolation is bleak and unrelenting, while Jay and Gail are alone in their own right, second-hand victims of a reckless, impulsive act.
That said, there are a few moments that risk being a little too on the nose. The script uses church manager Judy (Suzie Trayling) and young helper Brandon (Amari Bacchus) to diffuse the tension on either side of the meeting, while Rochelle Rose’s unflinching Kendra, a legal representative, helps get some of the exposition in place. The trio of characters are functional, yet one wonders whether it gives the play one ending too many.
Nevertheless, the leading quartet provides a masterclass in hard-hitting, dialogue-driven, performance work. Mass is a fascinating study on grief, blame and parenthood, and a gripping, exhausting, 100 minutes that takes your breath away.
