The Anatomy of Burke and Hare

Darragh Gilhooly and Ruarai Lenaghan in The Anatomy of Burke and Hare. Image, incredited

**

When it comes to The Anatomy of Burke and Hare by Darragh Gilhooly, the best laid plans of mice and men often go astray. Which describes not just the downfall of serial killers William Hare and William Burke, but the problems of a troubled production. Its tale of two Irish emigrants who terrorised Edinburgh in 1828 to provide cadavers to paying surgeons going over the top in all the wrong ways, and not far enough in others. Fraught with problems director Gwenaelle Gillet doesn’t resolve so much as compound.

Take Gilhooly’s script, which is less a story so much as a loose litany of clunky, badly structured, historical details. Its weak, descriptive prose infrequently peppered with weaker moments of poetry. In which Gilhooly and Ruarai Lenaghan, each playing several characters, set off with unnecessary set ups that confuse more than cohere. Eventually introducing Hare and Burke. The whiskey swilling landlord and cobbler presented with a unique opportunity following the death of a tenant. Like a slow rollercoaster climb, action drags through the first and second death, after which it plunges through the remaining murders in a matter of minutes, all without tension or excitement. Finally arriving at a hurried trial and a foreshadowed revelation you see a mile off. By the time it's come full circle it’s impossible to care, or even be curious, about the fate of its two reprehensible protagonists, portrayed with no redeeming qualities whatsoever. Efforts to suggest a quiver of conscience in Burke about as convincing as claiming Elvis lives on Mars.

Darragh Gilhooly and Ruarai Lenaghan in The Anatomy of Burke and Hare. Image, incredited

Under Gillet’s direction performances are driven by semaphored gestures evoking pantomime, silent movie, or cartoon overacting. Efforts to inject theatricality by way of a tea chest, coat and blanket also looking amateurish, like the Psycho Killer inspired dance sequence. Add the notorious Dr Knox and his assistant, Patterson, looking like a low budget Dr Frankenstein and Igor and it’s hard to decide if Gillet is aiming for bedtime Gothic horror or dubious documentary? Introduce some blood and gore, or the excesses of Hammer Horror, and The Anatomy of Burke and Hare would have made for Grand Guignol. Which might have been more effective given Gillet and Gilhooly ensure everything hits with the subtlety of a brick.

Even allowing that one man's taste is another man's poison, The Anatomy of Burke and Hare sees little evidence of accuracy, clarity, or economy in text, direction or performance, let alone subtlety. Granted, cast and crew are sincere in their intentions, but sincerity is an empty virtue. Still, The Anatomy of Burke and Hare has its heart in the right place, even if its head is all over it. Gilhooly and Lenaghan’s invested performances aspiring to greater things. Enough to suggest better things to come.

The Anatomy of Burke and Hare by Darragh Gilhooly, presented by Naming Cows Theatre Company and The Viking Theatre, runs at The Viking Theatre until February 14.

For more information visit The Viking Theatre