Writer: Meghan Tyler
Director: Mehmet Ergen
There are some historical subjects that, when used as the setting for a play, one would assume would lend an air of solemn gravitas, soul-wrenching catharsis, or deep philosophical exploration. One such setting would be Northern Ireland at the height of the Troubles. What you might not expect is a deeply macabre, occasionally wild comedy involving chain saws and puppets.
Meghan Tyler’s Crocodile Fever starts off simply enough. The fastidious Alannah (Rachael Rooney) has been left at the family’s Armagh home looking after her invalid father, who “accidentally” fell down some stairs while in the custody of British soldiers. Alannah’s rigid, controlled life is upended by the return of wayward sister Fianna (Tyler) after years away, some of which have been spent in prison and others gun-running for the IRA.
Fianna’s anarchic bent and Alannah’s rigidity set up the comedy in the first act’s early stages as the sisters battle and jibe, affection for one another struggling to emerge from the strata of whatever coping mechanisms they have layered on over the years. It’s a whipcrack-smart script, paced effectively and undoubtedly helped by playwright Tyler’s embodiment of a character she clearly loved to write.
This feels like a play that needs a little more floor space than the Arcola’s main space can accommodate. With the theatre lightly reconfigured into a traverse space for this production, Merve Yörük’s set design dominates either end of the stage. What feels like an odd configuration at first becomes, in fact, a necessity for some of the more shocking elements that Act II has in store.
Before then, though, the tension and the humour escalate in equal measures. When Stephen Kennedy’s Da finally emerges from his upstairs room, the root of the daughters’ trauma becomes much clearer. There is little room for subtlety, but Kennedy’s portrayal of a menacing abuser is effective – so much so that, when Tyler’s script calls upon him to explicitly deliver a joke rather than continue the family’s darkly comedic banter, it feels unnecessary and counter to the pacing of the rest of the piece.
It is no spoiler to say that the sisters ultimately seek revenge for everything their father put them through. The path they go down, though, is such a wild one that it shocks almost as much as it amuses. Blood becomes a common theme from discussions of periods (much to Da’s consternation) to an increasingly drunk Alannah’s passion for supernatural revenge horror Carrie.
As the play descends into a similarly bloody act of revenge, Act II culminates in a coup de théâtre in which allegory is made flesh. It’s also one that suggests why Crocodile Fever is only now receiving its first London staging since the play’s Edinburgh debut in 2019. The closing scenes are unlike anything one might expect from any family drama, let alone one so firmly rooted in 1980s Armagh.
It’s to the company’s direct that, even when technology glitches dampen the impact of the play’s final moments, Crocodile Fever clamps itself so firmly to the audience’s throat.
Runs until 22 November 2025
