Theatre company Tasteinyourmouth’s new play Narcissus kicked off in Smock Alley’s Boy’s Room to the backing track of Whitney Houston’s How Will I Know. The disco song, which lived up to Dunleavy’s promise that audiences can expect “one banging tune”, was juxtaposed with Dunleavy mystically singing along onstage, staring unnervingly as if daring audience members to react when catching their eye.
The experimental theatre collective Tasteinyourmouth is composed of Will Dunleavy, – who wrote and acted in the production – and Grace Morgan and Laoise Murray – who co-directed Narcissus. Originally performed as part of the Trinity Summer Festival in 2018 with DU Players, as well as showing in the Galway Arts Festival the following year, the play has recently been developed for six Fringe performances.
Describing his thought process behind writing the one-person show, Dunleavy recalls “thinking about Instagram and images of the body” and his intention of writing a play about “jealousy and the nasty thing it does to people”. The result is a comically dry piece about the male body, consisting of Dunleavy’s character reminiscing on his friendship with two equally beautiful boys to himself, Matt and Mark.
Despite the emphasis placed on the supposed beauty of the characters Dunleavy relays, the murkier aspects to their glamour is consistently and subtly insinuated throughout. For instance, by referring to the people constantly following their group as dirt circling the drain, Narcissus juxtaposes the ethereal aesthetics of beauty with the grimy bodily humanity underpinning it. These are skillfully emphasised through Dunleavy’s sly and astute observational tone, noting Matt’s eating disorder and Mark’s obsession with his complexion.
While acknowledging the challenge of working with a text of this length on both the directorial and acting side in their interview with The University Times, Dunleavy nails his character’s mock indifference and seriousness while giving the audience brief glimpses into his thinly veiled jealousy. The occasional seriousness of the themes Dunleavy touches on are marked by abrupt instances of sharp comic relief with one-liners such as, “people often have sex for other shallow reasons like kindness or generosity”.
Despite his ease at conveying his character’s dry tone, Dunleavy at times misses the mark on emphasising frustration, which could use a more striking build-up. However, Dunleavy, who does not usually act, recognises it as the prime challenge he faced throughout the development process, noting it as a “learning curve”.
The climactic moments of Narcissus prevail in periodic voice-over moments juxtaposed with Dunleavy forcefully gorging a curry from a takeaway tray or taking successive shots and violently throwing them up, for instance. These interludes heighten the tension between the different parts of the performance, which is thoughtfully mirrored in the set, with the cloudy visuals distorting and the occasional addition of clinical beeping. This effectively achieves the aim set out by Morgan, to “elevate this abstract world”, creating a highly visceral experience for the audience.
The haunting final interlude is heightened to a captivating peak, featuring Dunleavy mouthing along to the voice-over, describing a graphic scene between the three boys. This ultimately highlights his questioning of Matt’s beauty as his bodily humanity shines through, perfectly encapsulating the essence of Narcissus. The play’s closing passage cleverly highlights the darkly comic aspect of Dunleavy’s speaker self-idolatry, flawlessly relayed through his sharp, “thanks”.
The simultaneously ornate and stripped back prose of Will Dunleavy’s writing, combined with his unnerving performance creates a sensory compelling play. Narcissus immerses its audience into its abstract world of aestheticized beauty and shatters it continuously, along with any preconceived expectation they may have about a play of this kind.
