Programme Cover
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A Kind of Alaska,
Donmar Warehouse, London, 7th May - 13th June
1998, in a triple bill with The
Lover and The
Collection. The Collection and The Lover transferred to
Theatre Royal, Bath 15-20 June and to Richmobd Theatre 22-27 June
Deborah - Penelope Wilton
Hornby - Bill Nighy
Pauline - Brid Brennan
Directed by Karel Reisz
Sets and Costumes - Tom Rand
Lighting - Robert Bryan
Sound - John A Leonard
Threeís great company
by Benedict Nightingale
A dress-designer called Stella, back in London from a business
trip to Leeds, tells her husband James, she had a one-night fling
with a professional rival, Bill. That much is clear but, when the
injured spouse decides to confront the supposed seducer, the questions
begin. Maybe Stella invented the affair. Maybe she wishes to unsettle
or provoke an unsatisfactory husband. Maybe Bill, who at first denies
anything sexual, then confirms it, then withdraws that admission,
has his own agenda. Maybe upsetting not only James, but his gay
protector Harry, is a way of asserting his importance, his maleness.
Thatís a lot of maybes; but it is from maybe, perhaps and possibly
that Harold Pinter has constructed some of our eraís most original
plays. Indeed, I would warmly recommend The Collection, in
which the Leeds conundrum reverberates, as an introduction to his
work, especially a he himself gives a wonderfully wary, domineering
performance as the put-upon Harry. It is spare, funny, tense, packed
with menace, and extraordinarily intelligent about the subtle ways
the English exploit and manipulate each other. Other dramatists
give you the one-tenth of the human personality that breaks the
surface. Pinter keeps you creatively guessing about the nine-tenths
hidden underneath.
Yet The Collection runs under an hour, as does each of the
other two plays that comprise the Donmar's Pinter-in. Like them,
it is also far less often than it should be. Why had there not been
a major production of The Lover or A Kind of Alaska
in years? The former is after all, a remarkably arresting dramatisation
of the tendency, also very English, to compartmentalise love and
sex. The latter provides an irrefutable answer to those who say
that, in his concern with human wiles, Pinter has sacrificed pathos,
poignancy and other such qualities.
Lia Williams and Douglas Hodge, admirable as Stella and Bill, are
even better as Sarah and Richard, the married couple in The Lover.
He wears a city suit, she looks equally sedate, but his opening
line, ëIs your lover coming today?í, makes it clear that they are
less conventional than they seem. Should I reveal that he Casanova
who eventually swaggers into the house is actually Richard, and
the sexily dressed trollop who greets him is Sarah? I think so,
because the play grows in complexity as, against expectations, the
husband stages a rebellion against the arrangement the wife finds
fulfilling. You are left pondering the rights and wrongs, success
and failure of a relationship which acknowledges that balancing
the claims of mind, heart and tripes is difficult, going on impossible.
If you have ever read Oliver Sackís Awakenings, as you should,
you will recognise the predicament of Deborah, who succumbed to
narcolepsy at age 16 and, thanks to the drug L-dopa, is revived
29 years later. Judi Dench created the role in 1982, and Penelope
Wilton is equally effective at suggesting the bewilderment of the
bright, eager child in the creased, wan body. The play could, I
suppose, have been a case study in morbid medicine but, as directed
by Karel Reisz, comes across a as lament for lost years and wasted
time. It is well worth its place in an n evening whose overall title
has a deceptively offhand sound. Three by Pinter? Together, they
weigh more than a dozen by just about anyone else.
The Times, 15th May 1998
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