Martin Freeman and Jack Lowden spar in crisply funny Alcoholics Anonymous play The Fifth Step

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“I think I might be an incel,” announces Jack Lowden’s Luka at the beginning of The Fifth Step, launching one of the many startling conversations that pepper David Ireland’s very funny and bruisingly honest play (first seen at last year’s Edinburgh Festival and now revised and revived). Not for the first time, Luka’s mentor, James, played by Martin Freeman, finds himself nonplussed.

So begins the rollercoaster relationship between the two men, as James, 25 years sober, tries to sponsor newcomer Luka through the Alcoholics Anonymous 12-step programme. Key to the process is the crucial fifth step, when the participant admits the things about which they feel shame or guilt. But as the two men inch their way towards Luka’s completion of that step, it becomes clear that he is not the only one who might have secrets to confess.

Ireland has talked about getting sober aged 23 and describes the play as, to some extent, an encounter between his older and younger selves. It certainly rings with authenticity and with the candour of someone who has examined themselves deeply. It ranges far and wide, touching on trust, honesty and belief, on addiction more broadly, and on loneliness, fatherhood and masculinity.

We learn that Luka’s father was brutally violent to his mother, that he is addicted to pornography and that he struggles to talk to women without a drink inside him. But when he experiences a spiritual awakening, is his ecstatic embrace of his newfound faith also troubling?

The play dances to and fro, interweaving serious questions with crisply funny dialogue and combining the absurd with the profound. Luka’s awakening, for instance, arrives on a treadmill at the gym when he is apparently joined by Jesus in the guise of actor Willem Dafoe. In Finn den Hertog’s tightly paced production, the action plays out like a boxing match, which works wonderfully in Soho Place’s in-the-round space. Milla Clarke’s spare design — a table and a few chairs — has dispensed with the set the show had in Edinburgh, leaving the two actors exposed, in tune with their characters’ feelings.

Lowden and Freeman are superb, matching each other step for step. Freeman’s James begins the process contained, confident and in control, dispensing coffee and wisdom with the slightly smug air of a man sure of himself. But, as time goes on, he becomes increasingly edgy and erratic.

Lowden’s touching Luka, on the other hand, is all jittery energy to begin with, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, hands thrust deep into his pockets, knee bouncing nervously as he swallows his coffee. Beneath his defensiveness, his fear and vulnerability are palpable: “The truth is I’m lonely, James,” he says, bleakly. But gradually he becomes calmer, stiller and more centred, an arc that Lowden traces with beautiful precision.

It’s a play that raises more questions than it answers, not least about religion. But it’s also taut, funny and richly compassionate. In the end, it’s about getting through life and the difficulty of honesty, particularly with yourself.

★★★★☆

To July 26, sohoplace.org