Lippy

Traverse Theatre

Lippy tells the story of the suicide of an aunt and her three nieces in Ireland around 15 years or so ago. To do so they barricaded themselves into their house and starved themselves to death over several weeks.

They left no explanation but from scraps of notes and other evidence it seems they saw themselves as unloved, marginalised beings in Irish society — victims of history, in a way.

This brilliant Dead Centre production, directed by Ben Moukarzel, tells that story in an extraordinary and groundbreaking way.

It starts with a hilarious "post-show" interview with an actor who can lip-read who tells he how he was involved in the suicide  case because two of the women were caught on CCTV and the police wanted him to decode some of their last words.

The set then breaks apart in an explosion of noise and light revealing the four women in those horrific last days, in a suggestive and surreal evocation of what happened.

Rubbish bags full of shredded paper blow about the stage and we see the scene from different angles, as forensics experts wander round. Like us, watching the play, they attempt to piece the mystery together.

Yet no explanation is forthcoming. Only a few clues are suggested and the play ends with a long poetic monologue, projected from a mouth — a clear reference to Samuel Beckett’s Not I.

Moving from comedy, through suffering, horror and despair to a bleak but not despairing ending, Lippy is multilayered and self-referentially theatrical.

It's in no way realistic so interpretations of the play, like the circumstances of the women’s deaths, are necessarily speculative.

But for me Lippy is a brave, compassionate and deeply respectful tribute to the unknown lives of women who simply felt they did not belong on this earth. Moving skillfully and confidently between genres and multiple media, the play shows just how engaging, perceptive — and even redemptive — the best theatre can be. 

Mike Quille