Nelson Pressley reviewed last season's production of 'Mojo Mickybo' in Jan. 2007:

'Mojo': Enemies, Imagined and Real

By Nelson Pressley
Special to The Washington Post
Thursday, January 11, 2007

Nothing cements a friendship like a common enemy, even if imaginary. And in "Mojo Mickybo," a romp for a pair of physically and linguistically nimble actors, two kids smitten with "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" pretend all kinds of foes and heroic underdog adventures as they ramble through 1970 Belfast.

It's a genuinely dangerous time and place, but Mojo and Mickybo don't know it. The Keegan Theatre's minimalist production at Theatre on the Run gives the audience a clue, though: The floor is painted with a facsimile of the old Northern Ireland flag, with the red hand of Ulster in the center.

The bloody Troubles are the backdrop for the triumphs the lads envision as they race through streets and into hideouts, fingers brandished like pistols. As in so much current Irish drama, tear-away energy is the hallmark of playwright Owen McCafferty's compact drama (70 minutes), with characters narrating their own breathless adventures and playing multiple parts in the telling.

The narrative ingenuity is often impressive, and it certainly gives the actors a ton to do. Not only are Christopher Dinolfo and Michael Innocenti called on to be preadolescent Mojo and Mickybo, but they double and triple as parents, rivals and various town extras. Three-way conversations are entirely plausible in this milieu, thanks to Eric Lucas's zippy, utterly clear staging.

This language-heavy style sometimes lets McCafferty get away with pretty flimsy characterizations. A melancholy mother laboring in her kitchen, say, or a drunken father gleefully bellowing about Australia in a pub seem richer in these drive-by impressions than they would if rendered conventionally. (Although the movie version of the play, 2004's "Mickybo and Me," used a full cast of age-appropriate actors and was a hit in the U.K.)

The 1998 play gets away with these characterizations, though, partly because the energy of the slang-spouting, foul-mouthed kids is so infectious. Dinolfo and Innocenti are sprightly partners, dressed in matching dark sneakers, jeans and T-shirts and acting at a sprint, the Irish verbiage treppin' off ther tongues faster than a Guinness man late for a delivery.

And even if McCafferty's story holds no real surprise -- in this setting, there can be only one theme, and there's never a doubt this friendship will be gobsmacked by the real world -- it efficiently maps a universe in which alliances are everything. Driving it home, the boys have actual enemies in the form of a bully whose name is too vulgar to print here and his nose-picking sidekick. That gives our heroes a few amusing Butch and Sundance moments, desperado dialogue as their backs are against the wall (sometimes pretending, sometimes for real).

In performance, it's engaging stuff, the adrenaline kick of two young friends thrilling to the challenge of Us Against the World while it still seems like a game and not a blueprint for adult life.