Scab gnaws at the anger and desperation of men, fuelled by defiance and desperation. The best moments of this one-man play aren’t the scenes of topless raving, spit-filled roaring or whiskey spilled over the stage – all of which feel flat-packed from drama school – but its whispers of gentleness, kindness and determined creativity.
When our narrator (Conor Lowson) sees an old man bleeding on the kerb, he stops to help, and accidentally falls into a turbulent caring role for Keith, a troubled war vet with dementia and a drinking problem. With both men lost and lonely, it quickly becomes clear that the benefits of their unusual encounters are mutual.
Written by Luke Stapleton, Scab was originally intended to be performed at the Vaults festival, but was lost to the first flurry of closed shows at the start of the pandemic. Now, it’s staged at the Arcola’s brilliant outdoor space, a construction of wooden planks and shipping containers. At times, the space feels too big for the play, and Lowson’s words get lost to the night air. The sound issues are made worse by the jolting, unnecessarily loud music, both too far from the stage and too roughly chosen, like someone’s left Spotify on shuffle.
There are elements that need editing: the love interest is underwritten, loose ends are ignored, and its emotions are all over the place. But there is a thread of the story that holds some magic, when our boy discovers Keith’s secret talent. The old man’s endeavour is such a wonderfully surprising element in a show about two gruff, isolated men. It contains such graft, such potential, such adventure. In this way, Scab holds a gem of a story. It’s just a shame that it’s bunched up in cliches, both of script and staging.
Scab is at Arcola Outside, London, until 21 August.
