Djupid (The Deep)

Despite the modern resonances, the people boarding the Titanic didn’t know it would sink. Audiences at Djupid (The Deep) might feel more foreboding for its central character, a young fisherman preparing for a long voyage, who has hurt his hands but can’t remember how.

Based on Icelandic writer Jon Atli Jonasson’s original, The Deep has been translated into idiomatic Scots by director Graeme Maley. The translation is almost seamless, although an odd trace remains: there are too many vernacular phrases. The script seems too eager to fit in, like an anxious spy. Similarly, the desire to make the fisherman an "everyman" risks being condescending, and jars with the more consciously poetic lines. However, these are minor problems, and the filigree language is acknowledged and somewhat explained. This is a compassionate, wrenching story of life’s routines, and how we cling to them at the end of it all.

Liam Brennan is engaging throughout the monologue, holding the audience's attention with ease. He is noticeably older than his character, making his desperately shout of “I’m only a boy” slightly disconcerting. His performance is initially overly-energetic — understandable given the material. Again, these are trivial criticisms, and all in all he successfully embodies a man who is tough, funny and physical, but very human and all too fragile. He makes both his character and his plight believable and extremely affecting.

Indeed, Djupid has been known to reduce audience members to tears. Even if it doesn’t trigger waterworks, this is a solid piece of theatre that hides just enough under the surface to pull you in.