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As the old adage goes, three’s a crowd. Jeda deBrí and Finbarr Doyle’s play Tryst certainly proved this to be true.

 

The play opens on the morning after the night before. Matt and Steph are hungover. Their wedding is drawing ever closer, Steph’s mum won’t stop ringing to sort out last minute details, and there is bunting to be made. Things appear to be under control – just. This is a young couple in their twenties, still swigging whiskey from a mug, a sort of hair of the dog. DeBrí and Doyle seem to ask us, if this is adulthood, these remnants of carefree recklessness, then what are the consequences? Who is to blame when your life is derailed? The doorbell rings, and the maid of honour appears. Any semblance of order starts to unravel.

 

Tryst demonstrates a new take on an old premise, twisting an uninspired idea whereby the groom sleeps with the chief bridesmaid into something more satisfying (somewhat). The dynamics are constantly shifting. We are never quite sure whose side we are on; never really certain as to whose perspective is the best from which to gauge the series of events. This ambiguity is further emphasised by the seating layout, the audience bordering three sides of the small, central, square stage.  A threeway audience, and a threeway on stage – in more ways than one, as is divulged during the play’s progression.

 

The characters are constantly going round in circles: pacing the stage, repeating phrases; and shifting blame from person to person. A tryst is defined as a private, romantic, rendez-vous between lovers, but this play turns that definition on its head.  There is a coldness that emerges, a hardness, as those formerly at ease with one another take up arms, seeking to shield themselves from blame. There is something savage and brutal  in the way words are used to tear people down, where aspects of character which were previously seen as positive are used now as a means of annihilation.

 

We receive no final resolution in the play’s ending. It is hard to know what is right, what should have been done, and what we would do if placed in a similar position. And perhaps that is adulthood, a greyness that we can’t quite define. Adulthood is always seen as the far off realm of order and responsibility, but as Tryst shows, perhaps proper adulthood is never quite attainable.