Review: Red or Dead at Liverpool's Royal Court ****1/2

Football and theatre - both stages on which compelling drama can unfold.

Sometimes the two come together: think The Damned United, Bend it like Beckham, Jumpers for Goalposts and – closer to home – Nick Leather’s Billy Wonderful.

Red and Dead, being premiered at the Royal Court, is the latest addition to the genre, but unlike the theatre’s trademark rollicking comedies this stage adaptation of David Peace’s 2013 fictional account of Bill Shankly's Liverpool career is a much more resonant affair, an elegiac as well as energetic slice of storytelling in the mould of the masterful Boys From the Blackstuff.

Adapting Peace’s epic (730 page) novel for the stage, director Phillip Breen has retained the book’s distinctive, poetic, propulsive style and channelled it into a hugely powerful piece of citizen theatre.

The ambitious production’s huge ensemble, augmented further by nearly a dozen main cast members, forms a mighty Greek chorus of Koppites who drive the narrative both through individually spoken lines and group sighs, chants and songs – accompanied by roiling, restless movement.

And at the heart of it all is a magnificent – and magnetic - performance from Peter Mullan as the man himself.

Charismatic, fierce and dryly funny (both in character and, also, in a breaking of the fourth wall on press night during a solitary fluffing of lines), its as though Anfield’s Shankly statue has stepped down from his plinth and come to life in blazing Technicolor.

Peace/Breen’s tale covers the period from 1959 to the great man’s untimely death from a heart attack 22 years later, and much of it is a thumping rollercoaster of a ride.

You don’t need to be a footie fan or to have an encyclopaedic knowledge of LFC to appreciate the strength and quality – and indeed sheer chutzpah - of the storytelling, but equally it doesn’t hurt when it comes to sorting out who is who and what is what.

With the dramatis personae stretching to 50 named characters, and the action barely letting up over the show’s two-and-a-half hour running time, it can feel a bit overwhelming at times.

Above and top: Peter Mullan as Bill Shankly with cast members in Red or Dead. Photos by Atanas Paskalev.

Headhunted from Huddersfield Town by Liverpool chairman Tom Williams (Les Dennis) – incidentally in the same month Mullan was born, Shankly arrives at Anfield where he brings his single-minded, forensic, passionate and visionary approach to a beleaguered side languishing in the middle of the Second Division.

Concerning himself with everything from the state of the finances to the state of the Melwood training ground to the state of the stadium loos, his blunt drive might lead to fractious relations with the board, but his paternalistic care and creed of the collective makes him a legend among players and fans.

Among a few of the former represented on stage here are Emlyn Hughes (Oliver Mawdsley), Ron Yeats (Liam Powell-Berry), Kevin Keegan (Matthew Devlin in a wig that makes him look more Lenny Godber) and George Jones’s Ian St John who is at the centre of a very funny scene involving a possibly apocryphal tale about how Shankly helped him avoid suspension for decking an opponent.

Meanwhile Dickon Tyrell is a quietly solid presence as a loyal lieutenant Bob Paisley, and Paul Duckworth gets to have plenty of fun as both a plummy Roy Plomley (of Desert Island Discs fame) and the mercurial Brian Clough.

Above: Red or Dead at Liverpool's Royal Court. Photo by Atanas Paskalev.

If Shankly’s great internal sense of honesty, simplicity and socialism guide his actions, so here do two voices at his shoulder – his beloved and supportive wife Ness (a Burns-quoting Allison McKenzie) and a spectral Matt Busby (Gordon Kennedy).

They’re both with him as manager and team wage a war of attrition on rain-sodden pitches, gaining ground goal by goal and point by point to climb to the pinnacle of the profession.

Mullan is utterly captivating, whether rousing his troops like Shakespeare’s Henry V before Agincourt or gently trying to help the overwhelmed club secretary Jimmy McInnes (Keith Fleming).

If the long first half is defined by a rhythmic relentlessness, there’s a slight drop in energy after the interval as the story focuses on Shankly struggling to adjust to the retirement he himself decides on, becoming a ghost at the feast – and ground – while his successor Paisley takes the club to ever more glorious heights.

While the Court is known for its big, bold and colourful sets and use of its revolve, here designer Max Jones keeps things simple and uncluttered with a muted-toned boot room/board room/sweat box space in which the large company weave their tale.

Meanwhile Shankly’s egalitarian message is echoed at the curtain call where the main cast members, including Mullan, mingle with long lines of the ensemble to take a collective and well-deserved bow.