Hansard at The Lyttleton

A critic on a Radio 4 Arts programme when asked to give her views on Hansard, the first play by the actor Simon Woods, started by criticising The National Theatre.  How was it that a first-time playwright and an Old Etonian to boot, was able to stage his play with two top actors in the large Lyttleton Theatre?  After all, our great theatrical institution is supposed to be operating a policy of diversity and Hansard, with its cast of two middle-class white actors, is most surely aimed at white middle-aged, middle-class Caucasians. 

I took exception to this because as far as I am aware The National, under the auspices of Rufus Norris, has certainly not abandoned their plan to produce plays to appeal to the whole of our society.  But in so doing, wouldn’t it be wrong for them to suddenly preclude anything that might relate to the audience this person criticised for enjoying the play on the night she went? 

Having got that little gripe off my chest, I have to say that I thoroughly enjoyed Hansard, thanks in no small measure to the performances by Lindsay Duncan and Alex Jennings.  Their verbal jousting is timed and executed to perfection, and what is essentially a barrage of sarcasm is turned into brilliantly witty remarks.  It is 1988 and the couple’s bickering starts on Robin Hesketh’s return home from taking part in Any Questions the night before.  Diana, his wife of thirty years, is still in her dressing gown in their Aga filled Oxfordshire country home and metaphorically armed and ready for letting him know her thoughts on the programme and the fact that he is all for Section 28, the controversial part of that year’s Local Government Act that prohibited local authorities from ‘promoting’ homosexuality.  What doesn’t help his cause is that this suave, yes, you’ve guessed it, Old Etonian Tory MP, has married a Labour voter.  And her anger at his stance on said Section 28 is exacerbated by her suspicion that he is having an affair. Added to this arsenal is her scorn for her husband’s privileged background, admiration for Maggie Thatcher and lack of any artistic temperament.

Meanwhile Robin criticises his wife’s drinking habits, laziness and left-wing sensibilities.  Does she not remember that he has asked friends over for lunch to celebrate his birthday?  One wonders why they ever married in the first place.  Except that underneath all the scathing banter is the hint that there was and maybe still is love between them.  The problem is that there is a gigantic elephant in the room, concerning their son, which has affected them both so very deeply. They share their own unspoken guilt regarding his death and it’s only once this is aired that any latent fondness is allowed to creep back into their relationship.

Such is the depth of Duncan and Jennings’s acting ability that they’re both able to make their seemingly unlikeable characters eventually sympathetic.  Underneath Robin’s air of superiority and misogynistic entitlement lies a vulnerable, emotionally flawed man.  Whilst Diana, following the loss of her son, has spent too much time alone, brooding, drinking and pouring out all her frustrations at her husband when he eventually returns home. 

The final moments of the play when the grief they share is unlocked is devastating and in such sharp contrast to the earlier caustic hilarity.

It’s true that there are a few structural flaws in Hansard, but that has also been the case in certain other productions by more experienced playwrights that have been shown at The National.  And, despite the odd criticism, Simon Woods has penned 90 minutes worth of entertaining drama, using two actors at the top of their game who give superb performances under the expert direction of Simon Godwin.