‘The Fear of 13’ review – Adrien Brody doesn’t have enough room to shine in the death row drama | theater

AWhen it comes to true crime stories, the story of Nick Yarris is stranger than fiction and a darkly familiar tale of a man failed by the system. Stopped by a traffic cop in Pennsylvania at age 21, he spends more than two decades on death row, sentenced to die in the electric chair for a rape and murder he didn’t commit.

Adrien Brody makes his London debut in the central role in Lindsey Ferrentino’s play, based on a documentary narrated by Yarris (and he is an artful storyteller).

And who better than Brody? Despite his Hollywood stardom, he has demonstrated his transformative talent in the most demanding roles, most notably his Oscar-winning portrayal of a musician and Holocaust survivor in The Pianist.

He’s a beguiling presence here, but doesn’t get enough room to flex his acting muscles. Action takes the place of atmosphere. The first-person narration, mostly by Yarris, hinders the build-up of tension. Nana Mensah, prison volunteer turned wife Jackie, also tells her story, but this limited interiority seems useful in portraying the next part of the story.

There’s a lot to cover in less than two hours of drama, from Yarris’s juvenile delinquency and drug addiction to the revelation of early sexual assaults to the blatant mishandling of his court case.

He is convicted without DNA evidence, some of the autopsy material is destroyed and other DNA is damaged. At some point he becomes so desperate that he asks the state to kill him.

Directed by Justin Martin, who masterfully directed the legal drama Prima Facie, this play tries to compress everything so that it seems like a short narrative of events rather than a confident, powerful dramatization in which fellow inmates are rendered rather faceless .

Lighthearted and comical moments are inserted into some scenes, which, while amusing, diffuse the tone and undermine the medieval brutality of Pennsylvania’s penal system. Yarris is sentenced to silence for two years while brutal guards, played primarily by Aidan Kelly, routinely beat prisoners and remind them of their soon-to-be-dead status.

In Brody’s narrative, prisoners also play prison guards, police officers, lawyers, and family members. There are re-enactments of some courtroom scenes and an almost constant back and forth as characters enter, leave or roam the stage. It’s distracting, although it does involve some clever costume changes.

Miriam Buether’s set consists of plastic seats with prison numbers around a tiled prison floor and a rattling metal door. The stage is divided by glass, behind which we can see the domestic life outside of prison in Jackie’s house, and it looks like the distant dream vision that it is for inmates.

Yarris seems good-natured and jokes, and some earlier trials are played almost like criminal capers. It’s still a charming performance, but it doesn’t seem to explore the depth of Brody’s abilities.

When the play finally exhausts its story, Brody is allowed into the room to embody his character, and the result is some incredibly powerful scenes.

At the beginning of the documentary and play, Yarris speaks of the eerie contortions of time on death row, when a decade disappears in a fiery flash and a week seems like an eternity.

It seems at odds with the stage to show the dead time of prison life, but as compelling as this production is, it could do with slowing things down and pausing longer and deeper in Yarris’ heart and mind.

• Until November 30th at Donmar Warehouse, London

• Information and support for anyone affected by rape or sexual abuse is available from the following organizations. In the UK, Rape Crisis offers support on 0808 500 2222 in England and Wales, 0808 801 0302 in Scotland or 0800 0246 991 in Northern Ireland. In the US, Rainn offers support at 800-656-4673. In Australia, support is available at 1800Respect (1800 737 732). Further international helplines can be found at ibiblio.org/rcip/internl.html