Much like its predecessor The Pitchfork Disney, Philip Ridley’s deeply unsettling The Fastest Clock in the Universe is an alarming study of the human condition, pieced together to good success in this revival by Cellar Door Theatre.
The Fastest Clock in the Universe is set against a dismal birthday party celebrating Cougar’s (Frederick Russell) 19th (or is it?) birthday, put together by the doting Captain (Brian Aris) in their appallingly bleak flat above an abandoned fur factory. It is an odd and unnerving relationship, and one that appears to be fuelled by the Captain’s unquestionable loyalty to the alluring Cougar, interweaving desire, power and predatorial behaviour into one relentlessly toxic relationship. Russell’s Cougar is a little too broody here, and his lack of dialogue in Ridley’s uneven script, especially in the second half, makes it a little harder to unpack, yet Cougar remains securely contrasted by Aris’s anxious Captain.
What soon becomes clear, however, is the sadistic nature of Cougar, who this year has settled on his birthday’s special guest being the underage schoolboy Foxtrot (Kim Whatmore), the epitome of youth that Cougar seems desperate to cling onto, ignoring the sickness of this desire which the Captain struggles to reconcile with, even through his devotion. Despite the grim setup, it is an intriguing opening, with much of the first half handed to Russell and Aris to set up the dynamic between the pair, Cougar’s dominance against Captain’s submission, and the troubling nature of their relationship and Cougar’s underage plots. The pair work well here under Brittany Rex’s direction, only being in each other’s spaces in short bursts of moments where the façade of the situation threatens to slip, or Cougar’s bubbling potential for violence seems certain to erupt.
The piece, as well as the birthday party, pivots dramatically in the second half with the birthday party and the arrival of Foxtrot. Having bonded, perhaps even been groomed by, Cougar over a false tale about grief (Foxtrot’s brother is dead, but Cougar’s fabricated wife certainly isn’t), the schoolboy arrives with his dead brother’s girlfriend on his arm, Sherbet (a delightfully brash Naomi Preston-Law). Preston-Law is a terrific contrast to the desire for purity that permeates from Cougar’s creepy character. Sherbet is bold, sweary and honest, with the sense that she is onto Cougar’s deceptions being subtly drawn out with gestures and quick side-eyes. Sherbet also helps drive home the absurdity of the situation, decorating the guests with party hats and red noses in a manner that evokes images of clowns, a neat script choice which only furthers the sense of dark chaos in this piece.
Eventually, it is a production that bursts into violent life and reaches a darkly disturbing climax. The flat’s antiquated landlady, Cheetah Bee, (Karen Holley) retells an awful story about the fur factory’s operations, while the quartet’s attempts to stall time come to a shocking conclusion. In true Ridley style, Rex’s direction captures the horror of it all, in a bleakly rapid finale that mirrors the ‘fastest clock’ that the Captain regales about.
It is a script that struggles for balance, but a production which is brought to life successfully by a strong quintet and purposeful direction. Although a little slow to catalyse, the final spark makes for a starkly horrifying, aptly Ridley, ending.
My thanks to Cellar Door Theatre for supplying the recording of this performance for my review.
