It sums up the utter hopelessness of the situation in which main character Mooney and his gang – sensitive Tam, daft Joe, gallus Gee – find themselves, as history repeats, and repeats, on the mean streets of 90s Glasgow.
Nostalgic, with all its connotations of warm fuzziness, is the wrong word for a play that takes no prisoners in its examination of inequality, poverty, gang violence and stolen youth.
(There are tons of funny references to the 90s, though, which had the Pavilion audience – who lapped up every word – howling with laughter. A joke about Farmfoods, chips and curry sauce had a small group of women in the stalls helpless for at least five minutes, and Dionne Frati’s comic timing in her opening scene involving a bottle of Frosty Jack’s and a bag of Monster Munch was off-the-scale hilarious.)
Beautifully written by Liam Lambie, who also directs and plays Mooney, the story veers from proper, actually-crying-funny to gut-wrenchingly painful in the blink of an eye, and it’s testament to the whole cast that this never feels contrived or over-the-top.
Lambie’s portrayal of Mooney is intense, as he switches effortlessly from charming and funny, to genuinely shocking, to absolutely heartbreaking.
Ross McAree as Tam, Kyle Martin as Joe, Joshua Haynes as Gee and Lambie expertly bounce off each other as they crudely joke around, wind each other up and watch each other’s backs until the inevitable happens and tragedy strikes.
For all that this is a tale about what it means to be a man, the relationships between fathers and sons, and “wee boys playing at being hardmen”, one of the most touchingly written and beautifully played scenes involves the three female characters – Mooney’s mighty mother Mags, his deceptively tough, long-suffering girlfriend Michaela, and Gee’s sassy girlfriend Sammy.
Clare Rooney, Dionne Frati and Candace Nicholson are exceptional, and their stories, woven around those of their boyfriends, sons, husbands and fathers, are a reminder of the women left to pick up the pieces in the wreckage of male violence.
When We Were Young has been quietly roving around Scotland’s smaller venues since last year, picking up much love from fans, and the odd rave review.
It deserves a bigger audience, and not just because it puts a part of Scottish society often neglected by the theatre firmly in the spotlight. It deserves a bigger audience, because it’s brilliant.
When We Were Young is at the Pavilion only until Saturday (August 17) but it will be back on tour in 2025.
