As we know now, but did not in 2013 when Bull was first staged, reality TV, like social media, kills people. You can argue the nuances of that statement but too many smoking guns have piled up on studio floors for the assertion to be gainsaid. Whether The Apprentice has blood on its hands, I neither know nor care, as it is pretty much the Grandaddy of the genre and still limps on into 2027, piling up the cliches amidst the faux sheen of a 1980s upmarket advert.
Mike Bartlett’s horrid, if weighty and often funny, play looks back to that show’s early days and looks forward to some hiring practices we’re led to believe are being adopted by managers today. Even such routine functions as recruitment must be refracted through the lens of celebrity culture - or so it seems.
Three co-workers in a (non-unionised, natch) workplace are vying for two jobs, every team required to drop one in three of its headcount. In case you’re thinking that such strategies are no longer a part of a successful corporate culture, the iconic and highly profitable Greggs chain of high street bakers announced 740 job losses this week. Their methods are likely to be a little more humane than those used in Bartlett’s satire - well, probably.
The three employees, and the boss we meet later, are caricatures on stilts as this is not a subtle play, indeed it never misses a chance to deal us a dose of blunt instrument trauma whenever one arises. That is the shtick though (look at the play’s title, so you're warned) and the impact is mitigated by the fact that the play runs just over an hour, saving our ears from any more bashing.
Except our ears are not bashed at all. This is the second adaptation of a Bartlett play (after Contractions in 2017) by Deafinitely Theatre, the production bilingual in British Sign Language and English, surtitles projected behind the set. It makes, as it inevitably would, for a different dynamic were all this cruelty and vitriol spoken or, more likely, shouted - spare me! - but the centrality of the themes and the power of its language may be transformed, but they are not diminished.
The characters may be hard, nay impossible, to like, but the actors bring a certain humanity to these monsters. I’m glad they did because, past 60 years of age, I often tune out when a play, a film or a book becomes too relentless in its nihilism. The cast just about succeed in providing a life-raft to stay afloat on this sea of troubles.
Ciaran O'Breen (pictured above with Jasmine Whipps), his face located somewhere between William H Macy's and Rik Mayall's, is marvellous as Thomas, the beta, perhaps omega, male amongst the go-getter alphas. He has been the victim of put downs and jibes for months, the office banter that I sincerely hope, but do not expect, to have been banished from workplaces. Given the dog-eat-dog meeting to come and for which they are preparing, the gaslighting now goes to 11.
Chief tormentor is Isobel, Jasmine Whipps (great bit of nominative determinism there!) who attacks Thomas relentlessly with many taboos broken. Sure Thomas tries to throw a bit back, but Isobel is a skilled practitioner of her cruel art and he’s a tyro. Soon, team leader, Tony (Danny Lee) joins in, keen to get his shirt off and humiliate Thomas in his own way. When the manager, Carter (David Sands) arrives, he is exactly as expected.
Though the play is directed by Paula Garfield in a way that suggests that we're tiptoeing on the edge of the surreal and the acting takes it there too. Signing (as I discovered on a tube carriage that filled with excitable deaf kids - it was like a starlings’ murmuration!) is a wholly physical language, much, much more than merely hand gestures, touching on mime and the Commedia dell'arte amongst other theatrical genres. You soon attune yourself to look at the surtitles for guidance rather than narrative, as that is all in the constant barrage of gestures, movement and grimaces/smiles.
In that, the production is rewarding and suggests a rebalancing of how I might watch theatre in the future, particularly that supplemented by visible text.
I just wish it wasn’t such a grim ordeal to watch.
