Beware of cat lovers.
They are a dastardly lot, doing practically everything for their precious little fur balls.
Proof of this can be found in Irish playwright Martin McDonagh’s hilariously macabre comedy “The Lieutenant of Inishmore,” presented at Signature Theatre in splendidly gory fashion under the direction of Jeremy Skidmore.
Dripping with gore and liberally laced with deadpan, mordant humor, “The Lieutenant of Inishmore” makes the arty splatterfest films of Joel and Ethan Coen like “No Country for Old Men” or “Blood Simple” seem like children’s theater. It’s the Galway Chainsaw Massacre in Mr. McDonagh’s bleak lampoon of Irish nationalism, amoral violence and an appalling lack of family or friendship loyalties - all of which Mr. Skidmore corrals with the adrenaline-pumped rush of Quentin Tarantino hopped up on a case of Red Bull.
In Mr. McDonagh’s savage evocation of contemporary Ireland, people love only two things - their country and their cats. God help anyone who comes between them. The play depicts the bloody fallout after somebody kills Wee Thomas, the tabby belonging to Padraic (Karl Miller), an Irish Liberation Army terrorist described as “mad enough for seven people.”
In a scene reminiscent of the classic Monty Python “Dead Parrot” sketch, Padraic’s father Donny (John Lescault) and the island of Inishmore’s resident village idiot, Davey (Matthew McGloin) - who rides a pink bike designed for a girl and revels in his mane of long red hair - try to soften the blow by telling Padraic that his decapitated pet is “feeling poorly.” They also find another cat and attempt to dye it with black shoe polish, a numskull scheme with disastrous repercussions.
Padraic comes home to look after Wee Thomas, but not before torturing a drug dealer (the excellent Jason Stiles) by cutting off body bits while the victim hangs upside down from a hook, a scene both ghastly in its depiction of casual torment but also ghoulishly funny since the two chatter amicably about veterinary care and the merits of marijuana. Padraic even takes a cell phone call from his Dad in between bouts of brutality.
The play could be mere off-putting gore-ification if it weren’t for the splendid cast. Mr. Lescault and Mr. McGloin are an unbeatable Mutt-and-Jeff-style comedy team; their timing pristine and their double-takes beyond compare. A motley trio of terrorists is played to the hilt by Tim Getman as the one-eyed ringleader, Joe Isenberg as his overly sensitive henchman and Michael Glenn as a philosophizing thug.
Mr. Miller is riveting as Padraic, exhibiting an eerily unnerving calm as he tortures people and draws guns as if they were graceful extensions of his arms. As his girlfriend Mairead, Casie Platt is a Gaelic version of Bonnie Parker, a tomboy moll who embraces a life of crime with a startling appetite.
“Lieutenant” is not for delicate constitutions. The butchery of the final sequence will challenge even the most dedicated fans of gratuitous violence. However, if you immerse yourself in the fiendish energy of the play and Mr. McDonagh’s fearless sendup of the gift of gab and Irish blarney, you’ll shock yourself with how much laughter spills from your gob.
★★★★
WHAT: “The Lieutenant of Inishmore,” by Martin McDonagh
WHERE: Signature Theatre, 4200 Campbell Ave., Arlington
WHEN: 7:30 p.m. Tuesdays and Wednesdays, 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays, 2 p.m. Saturdays and Sundays, 7 p.m. Sundays. Through Nov. 16.
TICKETS: $44 to $71
PHONE: 703/573-7328
WEB SITE: www.signature-theatre.org
MAXIMUM RATING: FOUR STARS
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