#17. Guardians

Guardians by Peter Morris

Premiere: Pleasance Cavern, Edinburgh Fringe (August 2005)

Published by Oberon Modern Plays

Peter Morris' Guardians was another recommendation that particularly interested me as I enjoyed The Age of Consent, another of Morris' plays. Guardians won a Fringe First award in 2005, before transferring to London and New York. 

Guardians is storytelling at its purest and simplest and yet it is a deeply complex piece. Morris interweaves two vibrant monologues from characters that on first glance couldn't seem more disparate but, as the play proves, are intricately connected even though they don't know it. 'English Boy' is a blood-thirsty Fleet Street hack of a journalist, violently ambitious, armed with an acerbic wit and all the confidence of someone born of the Oxbridge elite. 'American Girl' is a plain woman from the rural poverty of West Virginia, dressed in the uniform of an American military prisoner.

Morris' characters articulate, ultimately, that everything is either fucking or getting fucked. For them, everything can be reduced down to this primal terminology.

It is an intricate character study of both, exploring how people are products of their upbringings and surroundings. Linking the two is the snapshots from Abu Ghraib, depicting atrocities committed in Iraq 'in the name of freedom'. Similar photos emerge in the tabloids of British soldiers abusing an Iraqi prisoner, which turn out to be fakes. Somewhere beneath the spin and the lies and the official secrets lies some kind of truth. It is not an apology, but a reflection on the cause.

Katherine Moennig as the American Girl in
New York's Culture Project production

The Abu Ghraib scandal was deeply disturbing and further fueled public anger against a disastrous war started under false pretences. This play is an uncompromising response, enabling some understanding of a seemingly incomprehensible series of events. It is scathing of the systems and people that are 'behind the camera', puppeteering events from a safe distance, preferring to get other people's hands dirty than their own. Morris particularly has in his sights Tony Blair and his supporters, and George Bush. He holds them, and the systems they represent and cultures they foster, responsible for what happened at Abu Ghraib and in conflict zones across the world throughout decades of warfare.

Morris' characters articulate, ultimately, that everything is either fucking or getting fucked. For them, everything can be reduced down to this fundamental, primal terminology. For the American soldier caught up in the scandal and used as a scapegoat, she has been getting fucked physically and metaphorically by those in authority for her whole life. For the English journalist, he'd rather be fucking than being fucked, and screw those caught in the crosshairs. This is these people's understanding of power, control and manipulation, and the misuse of it. The argument seems more fully formed in the case of the naive girl soldier, and her justification seems to stand closer inspection than that of the journalist. Perhaps this is down to the fact that she is based quite closely on the true to life Private Lynndie England, pictured in the photos abusing Iraqi soldiers, whereas the English Boy is more of an invention.

It is a convincing, well-argued perspective that is scathing of Western political powers in all the right ways, without demonising the characters for what they do. The monologues are appropriately conversational and play with the contradictory urges of confessional versus self-awareness. It is at times shocking and at times surprisingly tender. Morris has found a fresh, perceptive angle to the discussion surrounding the Iraq war; unsurprisingly, it still feels urgent and timely and could be about any conflict currently being fought by western powers. 

That said, something about it feels unfinished; it comes to a very abrupt end in mid-flight. Of course, it was written for an Edinburgh Fringe slot and the time restrictions that entails, but it feels like Morris has much more left to say. This is testament, I suppose, to how gripping his characters and their stories are that you feel as though they could easily talk for twice as long. At the same time, there is strength in how succinct it is. It is not easy stuff necessarily to digest, and Morris chooses to focus on the humanity within the story and suggests the wide reaching political resonance.

Perhaps, then, Morris' Guardians is a delectable, well-crafted starter rather than a three-course meal; it certainly leaves you wanting more. This little firecracker of a play is sure to spark debate.