Ryan and his gang were a typical group of mates living life lightly, until one night, when everything came crashing down around them

In Flashbang a group of mates, true lad’s lads, come together in The Lion and Unicorn Theatre’s intimate black box space to invite the audience to laugh, grieve, and cry with them as they tell the story of the tragedy that struck them, changing the course of their lives forever. 

There are four of them: Ryan, Deano, Jason, and Andy. They come from a small town and openly grapple with the idea that their life is set out for them, much as it has been for their parents, and their parent’s parents, and their parent’s parent’s parents, and so on. They collectively express their discontent with a future of office jobs, marriage, kids, semi-detached houses, and a cyclical routine that will stagnate them for the remainder of their lives. They are a close-knit group and have been since childhood. However, something, or someone, is missing. Their group of four used to be five, and as the play progresses, the audience is slowly clued in on the events that left them a member short. 

This is the crux of Flashbang. From the minute the play starts it is evident that something harrowing occurred to this missing friend, identified as Mikey, that the rest of the group has not truly healed from. It is designed to be a mystery that the audience slowly collects crumbs of information on, finally placing the puzzle pieces together at the great reveal, the ‘flashbang’, that both astounds and horrifies. However, the text, written by James Lewis, is not entirely subtle in its approach, and the structure makes the scene containing the tragic climax somewhat predictable, curtailing the potential impact of the great calamity. Overarchingly, the text was grounded and authentic. The characters felt three-dimensional and complex. The journey of their friendship felt fully fleshed out. Lewis created a group of friends with specific and intricate personalities and dynamics, the specificity of which allowed the audience to see themselves and their own friends within Ryan and his gang. 

Flashbang enlisted projections to help set the scene and propel the narrative. Their use feels warranted at the top of the play, when the characters are giggling at pictures of themselves from their awkward younger years. Projections continue to feature throughout the rest of the performance, used for countdowns, images of locations, and so on. Once the pictures of the young characters fade, the projections start to feel superfluous, and yet are ubiquitous. The actors, lighting designer, sound designer and director do a great job letting the audience understand exactly where the scene is set – club lights, loud music, shouting and slow-motion dancing make it evident that they are in a nightclub; the projection of a nightclub dance-floor feels excessive.    

Nonetheless, the audience certainly grieved alongside the characters. It is heart breaking to watch a group of young boys struggling to process loss, having always been told that men do not cry and do not feel, that they need to accept what has happened and move on. The cast worked phenomenally well as an ensemble, seamlessly bouncing off each other, sharing an energy that felt as though they really had been friends for most of their lives. The characters felt relatable and present, and made it easy for the audience to join them on their journey. They go on an emotional rollercoaster over the 85 minutes of the play, and bounce between grief and joy, crying on the bathroom for one minute and laughing the next.