The Pitchfork Disney at King’s Head Theatre Review
Ned Costello and Elizabeth Connick in The Pitchfork Disney. Photo by Charles Flint
Written by Greta for Theatre & Tonic
Disclaimer: Gifted tickets in exchange for an honest review
Philip Ridley’s The Pitchfork Disney unfolds like a fever dream lodged in the corners of your mind: a claustrophobic, uncanny fable in which the routine of siblings Presley and Hayley is indissolubly fractured by an alluring stranger. First staged in 1991 and often credited with igniting the in-yer-face theatre movement, the play is an electric charge; in this revival at the King’s Head Theatre, it pulses with startling immediacy, thanks to a production that amplifies its unnerving blend of humour, terror, and wild fantasy.
Presley and Hayley, twin 28-year-olds, live alone in their dead parents’ house, inhabiting a self-fashioned, post-apocalyptic scenario where only their home remains standing. Something unspeakable seems to have happened in their past; trauma lurks behind every half-truth they tell. Their constant quarrelling starts from the pettiest triggers, and spirals into sharp, mock-formal accusations, to the hilarity of the audience. This ever-present tether between absurd comedy and genuine menace emphasises how dangerously thin the line is between play and destruction.
Max Harrison’s direction is superb, infusing every line with fresh, resonant meaning. The piece is driven with remarkable clarity of vision, where silence holds as much power as dialogue and humour sharpens the dread rather than dispersing it. The rhythm is taut, the shifts precise, and the atmosphere constantly alive, as if constantly on the edge of collapse.
All characters retain a distinct roundedness and humanness, despite their backstories and motivations never being narrated in a linear way. In this world, stories are currency: they determine who holds power, who listens and who begs, who is able to enthral for a few magical moments, and who becomes trapped in the speaker’s world. Ridley’s text finds in this production an almost folkloric quality, one where to tell a story is not just to build a refuge, but also to wield a weapon.
Elizabeth Connick shines as Hayley, her performance intense and richly imaginative. Ned Costello’s Presley and William Robinson’s Cosmo, meanwhile, establish and uphold a riveting chemistry, rendered with unsettling detail; their continuously shifting power struggle is as inevitable as it is horrifying.
The exquisite moments of humour are essential, with laughter and horror often sitting side by side; fear, however, remains the play’s beating heart. Presley and Hayley’s nightmares teem with anxieties both ancient and modern, individual and collective, personal and political, existential and eschatological. Fear of the unknown, of others, of both intimacy and solitude, and perhaps most chillingly, fear of themselves. The production captures this dread in all its forms, leaving us to wonder whether the true threat comes from outside the house or from within.
The play confronts the audience with humanhood at its most grotesque: not survival of the fittest, but - as put by Cosmo - “survival of the sickest”; a fascination with disgust, morbidity and the spectacle of cruelty that feels both timeless and alarmingly familiar. Presley’s naive longing for his childhood, Cosmo’s snake-like dominance, Hayley’s own imagination haunting her to breaking point, and Pitch’s agonised screams - they all coalesce into a portrait of humanity as fragile, perverse, and terrified of being known.
The bleak humour, ineffable dependencies between characters, and hauntingly tangible surrealism, echo the exceptional tragicomedy of Waiting for Godot and - like the best productions of Beckett’s masterpiece - this revival of The Pitchfork Disney makes for a chilling, magnetic evening of theatre. Don’t miss this delightfully dark, utterly unsettling piece, animated with startling ferocity, and terrifyingly relevant.
The Pitchfork Disney plays at King’s Head Theatre until 4 October
★★★★★
