Tim Foley’s caustic and darkly comedic play The Dogs of War centres on the taboo subject of mental illness and how it can destroy relationships.

A family have moved to rural Northern Ireland; the mother and father live an isolated existence, with the mother suffering from serious mental health issues. Her husband has to look after her, catering to her sudden whims and tantrums. All they seem to have are their three beloved dogs for company. Their son Johnny studies history at university and the play begins as he comes home, unwillingly, to visit.

The Dogs of War itself is a line from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, and this link to Caesar runs throughout, changing in signification as the play goes on. In a harsh confrontation with his mother, the son declares that he is great and magnificent, and he continually compares himself to Caesar. Yet she tells an alternative story, harking back to when he acted as Caesar in a school play as a child and was so afraid that he wet himself on stage. When she brings this up, it makes for a very tense scene, with the father trying in vain to act as mediator as things get more and more heated and hateful.

But it’s in the second half that another association that the son has with the word “Caesar” is poignantly brought to the surface, adding an extra layer to the play. He explains to the audience how, when his mother had fits of mental illness throughout his childhood, his father – unable to explain truly what was happening to her – would describe them to Johnny as “seizures”. But in his childish misunderstanding Johnny thought his father was saying “Caesar”, so perversely associated his mother’s illness with greatness.

This adds more of a nuance to Johnny’s continual claims that he is like Caesar, as this aspiration towards greatness is directly associated with the experience he had of his mother’s mental illness as a child. It seems he himself also becomes progressively more mentally disturbed as the play develops, having strange verbal exchanges with the figure of Cleopatra, who appears to be a manifestation of his psyche.

In addition to the multifaceted meanings of Caesar, the family dogs in The Dogs of War are rich in symbolism. As soon as Johnny arrives, he is unable to see the dogs – they are invisible to him. It is only towards the end of the play, however, that we begin to see why this is. In a heated debate with ‘Cleopatra’, he claims that he can change his family history to suit his own skewed version of events, even painting the dogs out of existence. As soon as he has arrived in the house, he imposes this twisted rewrite of his family history, erasing the memories of any good his mother has done for him in his selfish wish to paint her solely as a villainous figure. In addition, of course, the three dogs are wild and untamed, always at each other, in a fitting reflection of the family dynamic in the play itself.

The Dogs of War is indeed cleverly conceived and rich in symbolism, with nuances within the play emerging as it goes on. However, the exchanges that Johnny has with Cleopatra at times come across as overly contrived, and this is the one weak point in the play.

Yet Maggie O’Brien turns out an excellent, compelling performance as the mother. Her sharp, snappy delivery and disturbing mood swings are very affecting. Although the dynamic she has with her husband and son can be intensely uncomfortable to watch, ultimately she emerges as a tragic victim of her mental illness, rather than the terrible person her unsympathetic son tries to paint her as.

The writing is masterful, the performances strong, and the play really comes into its own in the second half. For a tragic, complex insight into mental illness and how it can tear families apart, go to see The Dogs of War.

The Dogs of War is playing the Old Red Lion Theatre until 20 June. For more information and tickets, see the Old Red Lion Theatre website.