A dark comedy rich in both laughs and tragedy
When he went off to war, Isaac left behind a broken family living in an ordered home. Upon his return, everything has been turned on its head: the house is a mess, his abusive father reduced to a shell of his former self by a stroke, and his sister goes exclusively by the pronoun ‘Hir’ (a portmanteau of ‘him’ and ‘her’, pronounced “heer”). Although very much played for laughs – and there are a lot of them – Hir doesn’t shy away from its more tragic elements, telling a story equal parts dark comedy and kitchen-sink drama.
Striking a delicate balance between its important ideas, pathos and humour, Taylor Mac’s sharp script delivers a very funny first half leading into a genuinely affecting second act. The cast delivers one-liners with exquisite timing, and Simon Startin’s physical comedy is rivetting as the once-great patriarch now kept in his place by a spray bottle filled with water.
The overbearing, ultra-woke Paige (describing her awakening as “like being baptised, only without the male-dominated hegemonic paradigm”) is played with aplomb by Felicity Huffman, who proved her comedy chops in Desperate Housewives (for which she won an Emmy). Stefan Cenydd is an effective straight-man in Isaac, shocked and appalled to discover the state of his family home and once-great father. Rounding out the cast is Thalia Dudek as Max, the Hir of the title, alternately encouraging and tempering her mother’s right-on enthusiasm.
Ceci Calf’s set is a character in its own right, capturing Paige’s overcorrection from abused spouse to agent of chaos. Starting out as a maelstrom of disarray, with clothes strewn everywhere (“we were getting rid of things and just stopped caring”), the house is transformed several times over the course of the production, including an incredible close to the first act that I won’t spoil here.
Although overtly about gender, Hir is at its most exciting in its wider sociopolitical commentary. Whilst Taylor Mac’s observations on the trans community will have been revolutionary when written in 1996, these are fairly run-of-the-mill takes in the modern era, and at times it feels like trans-rights themselves are the butt of the joke. The script’s real foresight lies in capturing a microcosm of warring politics that feels very 2024. Max is trapped between two equally insane worlds – her father’s (and Isaac’s) toxic masculinity squares up against her mother’s wanton anarchism – when in reality there is a third, middle path. If only everyone would stop shouting and just listen to one another.
It’s rare that a comedy has so many genuinely affecting moments, or equally that a moving drama has so many funny lines. But what playwright Taylor Mac refers to as the ‘absurd realism’ of Hir manages to walk this tightrope superbly. A snappy script, expert production and highly capable cast come together to produce a dark comedy offering equal measures laughter and tragedy.
Hir plays at the Park Theatre until 16th March, Monday to Saturday with matinees on Saturdays and Thursdays. Tickets can be purchased here.