Review: Hangmen

The Anglo-Irish playwright Martin McDonagh has one of the theater’s most singular voices: perhaps Pinteresque in its menacing tone, but often funnier and with a larger cast. He burst onto Broadway in 1998 with The Beauty Queen of Leenane, the first of the “Leenane Trilogy,” then followed with the “Aran Islands Trilogy,” beginning with The Cripple of Inishman, both set on the coast of Ireland. The Pillowman, set in a nameless totalitarian state, came to Broadway in 2005 with a riveting cast, including Michael Stuhlbarg and Jeff Goldblum. He’s probably best known for his Oscar-nominated work as writer and director of Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, starring Frances McDormand, Woody Harrelson, and Sam Rockwell.

McDonagh is back on with Hangmen at the Golden Theatre. Set in 1965 (with a 1963 prologue), it’s the fictional account of the end of hanging for the death penalty in the UK. The country’s #2 hangman, Harry, is now the proprietor of a pub in Lancashire. Played by David Threlfall with imposing size, slicked-back hair, and a prominent mustache, Harry likes to dominate his wife, daughter, and pub cronies. Whether it’s Cheers or The Iceman Cometh, there’s always a certain social structure at a bar. In this case, enter a stranger from London named Mooney, and the dynamics shift.

Why is Mooney there? That’s intentionally vague, but also a little confusing. Alfie Allen as Mooney has a cocksure Mick Jagger-like presence. He seems vaguely interested in the case of Hennessey, whose death by hanging occurred exactly two years ago, under the auspices of Harry and his underling Syd. Even as Mooney and Syd discuss a plot at a diner in the second act, it’s still not entirely clear what’s up their sleeves, beyond taking Harry “down a peg.” Syd, as played by Andy Nyman with hilarious timing, is a nervous nebbish.

The rest of the largely, but not entirely, British cast is first-rate, especially John Horton as a somewhat confused older man. There is a certain amount of humor in their interactions, but rarely as out-loud-funny enough to keep the pacing of the first act from seeming overlong. The second has more clarity, as Harry and his wife worry about their daughter’s disappearance. (I couldn’t help thinking of The Hangman’s Beautiful Daughter by the Incredible String Band.) Naturally, Mooney is a suspect, and Harry is happy pull his weight around.  But before that can be resolved, Albert Pierrepont, Harry’s rival and the UK’s acknowledged premier hangman, does succeed in taking Harry down a peg. And the tragic consequences that follow show that the bully is in reality a coward.  

If you consider Hangmen a metaphor for authoritarianism and society’s fear of outsiders, the play has some current relevance. At the very least, McDonagh remains one of our interesting playwrights.

photo by Joan Marcus