The Bounds, Royal Court theatre review — politics and power in Tudor football drama

In a week of highly charged new political drama (The Constituent, Kyoto), Stewart Pringle’s The Bounds also chimes with the times. Pringle’s new play about a football match five centuries ago, first seen at Live Theatre in Newcastle, arrives in London just as the Euros plunge fans into elation or agony.

But the match Pringle depicts is worlds away from the well-mown pitches and eyewatering salaries of the modern game. Set in Northumberland, northern England, in 1553, The Bounds harks back to a period when matches between villages sprawled for miles, could last for days, contestants died and anyone moaning about VAR would probably have been thrown in the river.

It is at one such match that we join Percy and Rowan, twentysomething villagers shivering in the dawn as they wait for the annual Allendale-Catton mudbath to kick off. They are meant to be players, rather than spectators, but since the game is too far away to see, never mind join in, the difference is moot. So they chat, chant, bicker and reminisce — until Samuel turns up, a spookily serene, well-dressed stranger (Soroosh Lavasani) who they assume is a spy for their opponents, but whose presence turns out to be far more serious than that.

Written in earthy local dialect, Pringle’s play is strange, intriguing and a lot of fun. But coursing through it are huge considerations about power, class, control and allegiance. The bounds (parish boundaries) that Rowan and Percy defend so loyally are about to be changed at the behest of Edward VI, and the on-pitch battles are nothing compared to the political power games or the deadly religious strife unfolding in the wider world.

Percy and Rowan are as much on the outskirts of those seismic changes as they are on the fringes of the match. And while Pringle tackles political power, his drama also has an existential edge. Hints of Beckett’s Waiting for Godot fuse with folk-horror and a fantastical streak, where Rowan sees unnerving visions of future horror, of total war, of viral pandemics and of human extinction. A creepy, upper-class boy, seen only by Percy, adds to the weirdness.

Towards the end, the play feels overloaded to the point of confusion. But it is still an original and entertaining piece, the shifts in mood beautifully managed by director Jack McNamara, with the help of Verity Quinn’s set and Drummond Orr’s lighting. There is excellent footwork from Ryan Nolan and Lauren Waine as the two hapless defenders, condemned by the rules of the game — both small and large — to lose.

★★★☆☆

To July 13, royalcourttheatre.com