Alex (Ben Prendergast), softly spoken and, like his estranged wife, stoic to a fault, he nonetheless churns with barely concealed rage and anguish. It’s a brilliantly sustained piece of domestic horror.
There is an understated rivalry between Sam and Avery from the beginning and Prendergast excels as the bluff, older man who longs to assert his authority and make something of his life.
My favourite Red Stitch offering was Nadia Tass’s production of Annie Baker’s The Flick, which received pitch-perfect performances in the musty ambience of an underground theaterette
All three actors generate a riveting and precise ensemble performance which resists easy comedy to create a deep and satisfying humour – one strongly rooted in character – as dappled with darkness and betrayal as it is streaked with hilarity and moments of profound recognition.
The Flick very much represents the epitome of theatre. The cast are brilliant in their roles, subtly displaying these aching affections with utmost sincerity. Prendergast is a delight to watch, and his desperate attempts to gain Rose’s attention is both heartbreaking and endearing.
The cast is revelatory, Prendergast resists the very easy temptation to make Sam a creepy loser, instead conjuring a man shackled to his own existence, searching for an out. This is Red Stitch’s finest work in recent memory and, as three-hour stints in movie theatres go, this one’s totally worth it.
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The dazzling Ben Prendergast brings us editor/magazine chief Aidan; driven, hungry, ruthless but with a tiny streak of decency…or is it merely self-preservation? Prendergast’s presence is always compelling; he’s an actor of authority with an anarchic edge bubbling just beneath the charm, whatever the role. Here, a monumental battle of great acting. It’s mesmerising, and worth every cent of the ticket price.
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The final scene was a brilliant and sensitive piece of comic acting by the male leads Ryan Gibson and the wonderful Ben Prendergast. At one point, I almost fell out of my seat with laughter during a set piece involving what looked like an exploding tube of lubricant.
Midsummer is enough to make anyone want to hightail it to Edinburgh as soon as the lights come up, because life’s little debacles have never looked so fun as they do when Helena and Bob are trying to survive them.
This Vulture got her moment in the sun in an unexpected cameo performance (sans notebook) and has decided to give away the writing and defect to the theatre. Preferably with the gorgeous Mr Prendergast. An uncanny likeness to Ewan McGregor, enhanced by a pretty authentic Scottish accent, did this young man no harm. Throw in his mastery of guitar and a very nice singing voice, and you have the whole package.