12.39°C There are many plays currently exploring the construction of masculinity, and its toxicity and damaging effects on men. Punch and Manhunt in London have been effective productions, but they don’t come much finer than Joe Mallalieu’s powerful Rum, a one-man show performed by Joe himself. We meet Danny, a plasterer who has been plastering since he was a kid. His grandad took him and his mates on, a man he idolised and still talks to while he works.
Here, Danny has been called in to finish a job. He’s been up all night and is rushing to complete it before giving an important speech for a friend. When he snorts a line of coke early in the play, there’s a danger we’re about to walk into well-trodden territory. But Rum is much more than that. As Danny’s defence mechanisms crumble, we see the destruction that idolising a violent man can cause. It’s rare to see a working-class, trade character on stage, and the masculinity examined here is not so much toxic as it is the only version of masculinity men like Danny are given access to.
Mallalieu’s performance, forged in part from lived experience, is mesmerising and powerful. He moves from a jack-the-lad figure, who might do a perfect job but you wouldn’t want in your social circle, to a broken man, finally finding honesty and admitting love. His script contains a perfect metaphor for the damaging construction of how a man “should” be: when plastering, if you don’t get the prep right, it’s horrid. The worship of violence, the pub, fighting, shagging – he wasn’t taught right. And this beautiful quote sums it up: “This plaster will outlive me. I shape rooms, but in turn, they have moulded me. Hiding secrets. Weak spots made to look strong.”
It’s a powerhouse of a performance, astutely directed by Tess Seddon. The lighting and sound are effective and carry us through the varying emotions of Danny’s tale. Without giving too much away, this is an important play that needs to be seen by as many people as possible, particularly men. Outstanding, memorable theatre.
