In Cyprus Avenue (2016) and Ulster American (2018), which won awards and caused walkouts, David Ireland established a signature tone of farcical nightmare. Ulster Unionists (his own community) are driven to outlandish non-paramilitary violence by their perception that they are a despised minority in Ireland, the US and – despite long historical loyalty to its monarchs – the UK.
His new play, Sadie, was due to have its world premiere at the Lyric in Belfast. That was blocked by lockdown but it was filmed in the empty auditorium by the BBC as part of the Lights Up festival of streamed theatre. It’s another provocative comedy of intolerance, but takes into fresh domestic territory the earlier plays’ themes of long memories, violent revenge, and the possibility of forgiveness and forgetting.
In 2020 Belfast, 50-ish divorced and widowed office cleaner Sadie forms a lockdown love bubble with English-Portuguese João, half her age. Two close relatives of Sadie have been out of the loop of Northern Irish history for three decades, enabling mordantly funny exchanges in which they are updated on the peace process, Brexit, Netflix and so on. Three of the characters are victims, either of the Troubles or wider psychoses.
The dramatist has discussed his unease about “trigger warnings” for theatregoers with sensitivities. Advance knowledge would defuse two devastating dramatic revelations – which the BBC4 continuity announcer respected while advising of a “dark and often harrowing drama” – but Sadie also turns on the consequences of instilled sensitivities: in Ulster culture, to have a name or sing a song that identifies you with the other side can very literally be triggering.
Ireland’s script wittily incorporates its own editorial apparatus – Sadie apologises to us for her family’s “casual sectarianism” and clarifies, “I don’t hate Catholics” – and a typical torrent of strong jokes includes the Ulster Unionist who has been radicalised by watching The Crown, horrified by the disloyalty he sees Elizabeth II to have suffered from her family.
Abigail McGibbon’s daringly unpleasant Sadie and Santino Smith’s affably baffled João are equally affecting when the reasons for their carapaces are revealed. Conleth Hill’s punchy staging confirms Ireland as one of Britain’s most original and daring writers.
