Written by Barney Norris, based on David Foenkinos’s novel, and directed by Michael Longhurst, Second Best starring Asa Butterfield is a gentle yet soothing monologue about masculinity, fatherhood, and lifelong trauma that you probably don’t need to cure it at all.
As a young boy raised by his father after his parents separate, Martin Hill (Asa Butterfield) finds himself heartbreakingly close to landing the role of Harry Potter. After several auditions that boosts in his self-confidence, as well as the deep-seated, mysterious desire for a reunited family (he believes that if he becomes a rich child star, his mother will come back to live with him – another form of fantasied masculinity), Martin ultimately loses out to Daniel Radcliffe in the final round. This sets him on a life path that differs entirely from what he had imagined.
At its core, this is a play about modern masculinity and what does it mean for proper fatherhood. Barney Norris deftly and cleverly interweaves Martin’s present with his past through direct address. In present, Martin is Sophie’s husband and soon-to-be father of their baby boy, yet he is riddled with anxiety. He worries that he lacks the masculine qualities society deems necessary, such as his conviction that “the man of the house” should be the one driving the car. In the past, he is still living with his father John, a film prop maker who wholeheartedly supports Martin’s auditions. But in Martin’s eyes, John himself falls short of the secular standards of “manly success,” which only intensifies Martin’s desperation to win the role.
Making his stage debut, Asa Butterfield delivers an unexpectedly nuanced and delicate performance. He seamlessly shifts between playing Martin who talks to the audience like an old friend, and other characters including John, an elderly lady as casting director, and his one-time “stepfather” Mark, an ultimate embodiment of toxic masculinity. Butterfield’s Martin is certainly no alpha male; a slight stammering habit renders him endearingly shy, slender, and sensitive. This trait is echoed repeatedly in Martin’s memories of the auditions, where the film team applaud for his performances conveying sadness and vulnerability.
Director Michael Longhurst and set/costume designer Fly Davis are unquestionably the other linchpins of this production. Longhurst’s stage direction keeps Butterfield moving across the expansive main stage at Riverside Studios, keeping him talking to the audience while deftly blending the story’s bittersweetness with sharp, dark humour.
Davis’s design leans toward minimalist expressionism: stark, sparse, and sterile. A crisps rack, a television monitor, a camera on a tripod, a few scattered picture frames, and a massive wooden wardrobe, all serving as symbolic markers at pivotal moments in the story. Certain creative touches integrate beautifully: for example, a large sheet of tin foil not only represents Martin’s remembrance of late John, but also symbolises the invisibility cloak from Harry Potter, capturing Martin’s fixation on, and anguish over, his own “invisibility.”
A hospital bed is mounted high on the left wall, adding a sense of absurd, faintly jarring note and delivering some of the play’s most psychologically unsettling moments, wherein you suddenly feel distant and indifferent. A few other design choices, like black dust falling from the loft or the oversized ceiling light panel (Paule Constable) moving up and down, can feel a bit disconnected from the story.
This warmly heartbreaking story ends with the birth of Martin’s son, John. On the central stage with a widely opened wardrobe and a baby bed inside, Martin imagines making sandwiches for him – how he would become a better father. The final fifteen minutes drag slightly, veering into a mildly didactic refrain on how “it’s okay not to move on.” Still, they don’t overshadow the overall production. Second Best ultimately comes across as a compressed yet affecting container of fragile masculinity – and humanity.
