Carthage Must Be Destroyed

'All wars are different. All wars are the same' is one of the quotes that introduces the text of this new Traverse commission by Alan Wilkins.

Hopefully the play's rather unwieldy title - lifted from a key speech by a persuasive leader - won't deter those who aren't clued up on the Third Punic War. As the above quote hints, Carthage Must Be Destroyed is as much about the USA and Iraq as it is about Rome and Carthage.

While the writer's means of connecting the two conflicts isn't exactly subtle - we see ruthless politicians justifying a profitable invasion with talk of stockpiled weapons - his play is slick and entertaining, and side-steps the pitfall of spending too much time condemning characters and not enough time developing them.

The first act is set in a public bath, where counsul Cato (Tony Guilfoyle) has arranged a private meeting with two political allies: the experienced Gregor (Sean Campion) and the malleable young Marcus (Damian Lynch). Not only are the contrasting pair physically exposed, but as Marcus quickly learns they can't hide behind pleasantries or politeness either.

Every word counts in a series of subtly manipulative exchanges between the three men, interspersed with Gregor's ill-advised attempt to seduce Cato's young nephew David (Paul-James Corrigan). Power is transferred back and forth before disarmingly the house lights come up for Cato's address to his people. Guilfoyle's delivery is perfectly measured, and passionate enough to make the audience of insiders squirm.

The play's second act sees a shift of location and the introduction of an ambiguous new character; the momentum of the pre-war conspiracy is dispelled by the dull, claustrophic reality of a drawn-out hostage situation. It's a major switch in time and place and the audience is required to fill in two year's worth of blanks in order to conceive of Gregor's journey from a luxurious bath in Rome to a soul-destroying cell in Carthage.

Carthage Must Be Destroyed continues to engage and provoke up to a nonchalantly brutal denoument, but it loses some of its impact along the way.