Ian McDiarmid’s adaptation of Andrew O’Hagan’s novel about a priest’s relationship with a teenage boy is a surprisingly charming affair. The actors are as talented as we’ve come to expect on the Donmar stage, but their strengths are also this play’s weakness. The comic roles are embraced with real gusto, and though it is entertaining stuff, it makes for an unbalanced play. Put simply, the piece is not dark enough. So, rather than fear the mob that will eventually put Father Anderton in jail, we laugh at it. With no real danger surging through the play, the energy drops as we stumble towards its inevitable and fairly safe conclusion. 

The actors are not at fault here; the dynamic between the priest, played by McDiarmid himself, and Richard Madden’s teenager Mark is sparky, different and real. Madden is an honest and engaging actor and makes it easy to see what attracts the priest to this sharp but sensitive boy. The real problem is Father Anderton’s role in it all – it is immediately obvious that he is attracted to Mark - and the fact his agenda is so clear so soon makes it hard to connect with his demise. Still, there is one scene that hits the heart direct: as the two men pass out in a drunken stupor, Mark laughs in disbelief at their situation; ‘This is mental.’ Still holding the teenager’s hand, Father Anderton freezes with shock and recognition; the unchecked sadness in McDiarmid’s eyes and the utter loneliness of his frail and recoiling body will be hard to forget.

But despite a few standout moments, the play continues to miss the mark. The rhythm feels confused and the emotional climaxes come at unexpected and awkward moments. Plucked from a much larger and more complex whole (O’Hagan’s original novel), some of the scenes feel forced and out of place. Furthermore, there is an innate lethargy to the play’s remote location that slows the play down. So whilst the plot requires a certain urgency to keep it moving, the quiet pace of small-town Dolgarnock keeps holding it back; the play never quite settles into its own natural rhythm and the result is an entertaining but disjointed piece. 

It is a horrible thought to contemplate, but I’m not sure that shock alone can sustain a play anymore. I don’t think it is that we’re incapable of being shocked – but that we need to look for different ways to jolt us from our comfort zone. The plays that have truly unsettled me recently have not had to try too hard or look too far; Harper Regan touches on issues similar to Be Near Me, but whereas this is a ‘play about paedophilia’, Harper Regan looked at the lives first and the paedophilia second. In trying a little too hard to deliver its message – any message - Be Near Me has somehow lost sight of what it is trying to say.

Till 14 March 2009