The Wasp Factory

Published Wednesday 23 April 2008 at 11:10 by Gareth K Vile

Despite the furore that surrounded the release of the novel and the pre-show warning of full-frontal nudity, Malcolm Sutherland’s adaptation tamed Iain Banks’ cruel comedy into melodrama. Relying heavily on Banks’ original, astringent prose, the script operates as a series of monologues by Frank (Nicola Jo Cully) with Eric (Robbie Jack) and the Father (Ian Sexon) reduced to ciphers.

The atmosphere of rural isolation is captured perfectly by Mike Dorrance’s wooden set and Lizzie Powell’s subdued lighting, but the power of the play rests on Cully’s performance. She addresses the audience directly, telling Frank’s disturbing stories and enacting his obscure rituals. Slipping occasionally into mannered madness, she cultivates an uncomfortable androgyny that hints at the tragedy beneath Frank’s fascination with death and torture.

Both Jack and Sexon acquit themselves well, although they are given little to do - the Father, in particular, is ill-defined and hardly seems capable of the climatic monstrosity. Since Frank’s monologues effectively play both sides of any dialogue, they merely illustrate the action and only rarely shine - most memorably in the final scene when madness and alcohol overwhelm them.

Ed Robson’s direction struggles with the heavy script, injecting moments of comedy - including an a cappella duet and a bunny rabbit pas de trois - into a retelling rather than a staging of the novel. When the slow plot finally gives way to the manic and shocking finale, Robson unleashes his actors to create an unnerving surrealism. Yet the overall feel is caution and competence rather than bravery or imagination - this Wasp Factory is careful, considered and consistent.