The Laramie Project

Cochrane Theatre, London

Shirley Dent

When a play has a powerful narrative, containing moments of drama that strike to the marrow and performances committed to the core, why do you come away with your feelings of admiration undercut by irritation? There is one word that explains: smugness.

As the blurb tells us, 'Matthew Shephard's murder in 1998 was a huge media event in the United States. A young gay man had been pistol whipped, lashed to a fence and left for dead. It happened in a small Midwest town that could be seen as a microcosm of America'. Moses Kaufman and members of the Teutonic Theater Project undertook to write a play around these events and the people of Laramie.

This process is woven into the final product. Interviews with various characters from Laramie, about their actions and reactions to the murder of Matthew Shephard, sit alongside the writers' insights into these moments of witness-bearing. This is where the pinpricks of self-satisfaction got me the most.

Let me be absolutely clear in my criticism. There is some terrific writing and drama in the Laramie Project. As a human being, how could you not be touched and astounded by the description from a young female cop, who was first on the scene of the crime, of a body so covered in blood that the only clear space was on Matthew's cheeks where he had been crying. The Laramie Project is good drama and it deserves our attention.

There is a problem, however, and it is a problem that jars. The whole production is set up as a group of observers coming in and - with whatever good intentions - putting the hicks in the petri dish. The whole thing cannot escape that icky feel of a mass observation project. Even when one young reporter/writer says that he learns from the barmaid and chief town gossip (and mother of the young female cop), you don't really belief that his liberal world is jolted for a moment. What you sense is that somewhere in the back of his head a voice is going 'Ah, bless' as the old girl gruffs on about running around in the buff.

You see my difficulty? It is always those people over there, them, who are the intolerant or the victims or the fools, the lumpen unsophisticates who act as catharsis fodder for the not-in-my-name generation.

This feeling was probably not helped by the youth of the Red Chair Players from the USA, and I did wonder if an older cast, whose sheer experience of life would give weight and gravitas to some of the older characters, would have made for a markedly different production. Again, don't get me wrong. Every one of the actors on stage at the Cochrane was skilled and turned in moving performances, particularly of the Laramie characters. And here special mention most go to the difficult verbatim excerpt from Matthew's father's speech during the trial of his son's killers.

But there was one way in which I think the actors' youth certainly worked against them. They had bought the political subtext of this play lock, stock and barrel, and it left the very important safety valve of ambiguity and judgment firmly blocked. I just had that feeling that there were moments when they weren't acting but telling.

A very able actress beamed with smugness when, as a young lesbian, she tells us about Matthew being really political because he watched CNN, and later of her joy, having become a political activist instead of a rock star following Matthew's death, on learning that she is to be honoured by the Anti-Defamation League. For the record, and as my mother would say, neither of those two things is much to be writing home about.

But the Laramie Project certainly is worth a few lines…

Till April 6.