Writer and Director: Luke Adamson
At the height of the Great Depression in Prohibition-era New York, a group of individuals devises a plan to get their hands on some easy money. They’ll take out a few insurance policies on an unsuspecting person, bump him off, then collect the payout.
The title of The Unkillable Mike Malloy gives away the snag in the plan. Undertaker Francis Pasqua (Will Croft) and speakeasy owner Toni Marino (Stefani Ariza) find their mark early on: Mike Malloy, an Irish itinerant who spends his days drinking at Toni’s bar.
Initially hoping that his copious alcohol intake will finish him off, when Bryan Pilkington’s Malloy keeps returning to the bar, the conspirators up their game. They swap out Malloy’s vodka for wood alcohol, feed him poisoned oysters, give him meals of mashed-up rotten sardines laced with carpet tacks and broken glass… nothing has any effect, other than temporary incapacity.
Director and writer Luke Adamson delivers an homage to film noir, with stark lighting and Croft’s hard-boiled narration contributing to the atmospherics. There are indications that this is a piece of contemporary writing, with deliberate references to current US policies, including the practice of detaining individuals without due process and the imposition of punitive trade tariffs on an already struggling economy. Mostly, though, this is a pastiche of style, moderately amusing while never becoming a laugh-out-loud comedy.
Part of the problem is the repetitive nature of the attempts on Malloy’s life. This is due in part to the adherence to what actually happened – “Iron Mike” Malloy was a real person, and the plot to kill him unfolded much as Adamson portrays – but the repetition of attempting to poison Malloy only for him to revive and demand more liquor does cause a drag on proceedings. That’s somewhat countered by the performances, especially from Pilkington, who makes his multiple roles (as well as Malloy, he plays a fellow conspirator and a policeman) distinctive and memorable. And truth be told, at least one of the cabal’s more daring and desperate attempts after all else has failed is delivered in a manner that’s visually arresting in ways that a theatre the size of the Bridge House does well to accomplish.
Croft clearly revels in his role both as the lead antihero and the play’s narrator, and while his Bronx drawl may waver at times, he’s a largely charismatic companion throughout the evening’s misadventure. But while there’s much to commend here, and elements of fun throughout, there is also the feeling that, however true the story may be, there’s not enough variety to sustain the running time. In this 90-minute escapade, there’s a sharply written hour-long feast just dying to get out.
Continues until 26 July 2025
