Content warning: the next hour, James Rowland tells us, may contain traces of Shakespeare. The clue is in his title but shouldn’t all shows carry the same notice? After all, he says with a grin, they are “made in the same factory”.
Hamlet suffuses the beautifully judged Piece of Work, which begins with just that speech. You know, “lost all my mirth”, “sterile promontory”, “congregation of vapours”… But before he starts, we must wait for a wispy seed he holds in his hand to float its way down to the floor.
How many storytellers could pull this off? The pause, one of many pools of stillness in this show, perfectly tees up the words, which sound newly minted and open-hearted, as Rowland delivers them with guileless eyes and agitated fingers.
The tale he shares with us is one of a father’s death, a son’s turbulence, something rotten and a play within a play – with a booming Falstaffian character for extra measure. We are not in Elsinore but Didsbury. With the help of maps spread across the stage, he returns to the streets and “desire lines” of Manchester and other childhood terrain to describe his relationship with the brother, Chris, he gained with delight at the age of 10. Rowland’s face glows with the pride of an older sibling – the joy Chris continues to bring to his life is palpable and so, too, is his constant concern for Chris’s mental health.
Isn’t it strange, he says: “to be or not to be” is one of the most famous speeches in the English language but we find it so hard to talk about suicide. He scrutinises lines from Shakespeare, gleaning what he can to make sense of his own little life and ours, but Rowland is always attuned to the room. Jokes arrive at just the right time, as if he is twisting a pressure gauge; wordplay, sight gags and rhapsodies about Proustian chicken burgers release the tension.
Nothing is clearcut in this tale, which intertwines stories of fathers and sons and hangs on a wordless encounter between Chris and his estranged dad whose relationship needs just slightly more focus for the ending to hit home. Rowland, who generously gives over a long period to play a recording of his father’s voice, manages to combine a long view of the family’s past with a perspective on its future, too. He makes it all seem so simple: a man who has chosen to stand and unfold himself.
At Summerhall, Edinburgh, until 27 August
In the UK and Ireland, Samaritans can be contacted on freephone 116 123, or email jo@samaritans.org or jo@samaritans.ie. In the US, you can call or text the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline on 988, chat on 988lifeline.org, or text HOME to 741741 to connect with a crisis counselor. In Australia, the crisis support service Lifeline is 13 11 14. Other international helplines can be found at befrienders.org
