PLAY REVIEW: Crocodile Fever ★★★

 

In this disquieting kitchen-sink horror-comedy set in 1980s South Armagh, writer‐actor Meghan Tyler, directing by Mehmet Ergen, packs in sisterhood, sectarian violence, trauma and a literal chainsaw. The result is wild, occasionally gripping, yet somehow uneven.

The premise is arresting: Alannah, played with precision by Rachael Rooney, is the spotless, devout older sister, obsessively cleaning a kitchen that seems to symbolise her control over a chaotic past. Fianna (Tyler) bursts in after a prison stint, kicking out the order, cracking jokes, opening crisps, recalling the days of the “paras”. The sisters’ clash is vivid, their rapport believable; the early scenes brim with potential. Merve Yörük’s design nails the domestic façade and the slow collapse of that world

But for all its theatrical bravado with blood-soaked revenge, puppet-father looming like a crocodile, Tarantino-style absurdity, Crocodile Fever occasionally overshoots its mark. At times the narrative loses subtlety, tracking so insistently toward spectacle that the emotional under-current gets left behind.

That said, when the play lands, it lands hard. Rooney’s transformation from hyper-controlled neat-freak into something unmoored is striking. Tyler’s Fianna is compelling, a mix of bravado and wounded flinch. And the fit between theme and form, domestic space invaded, violence erupting, mythic crocodile lurking, is bold.

If Crocodile Fever falls short of being fully satisfying, it is nonetheless a vivid, ferocious piece of theatre, and one that may reward those willing to ride its extremes. It’s not entirely seamless, but its ambition and its central performances make it worth enduring.