Elena Ferrante’s
Neapolitan Novels, about the
friendship between Elena (Lenu) and Lila, embrace four books. They are beloved by many, but, sadly, having
read the first one, I failed to continue with the remainder. They’re the sort of books that need total
concentration (no dipping in and out) especially as the cast of characters
include, amongst others, nine different Italian families. I obviously wasn’t inclined to invest that
amount of effort and maybe this is why I enjoyed Part One of April De
Angelis’s adaptation of My Brilliant Friend, currently playing at The
National’s Oliver Theatre, far more than Part Two. Being familiar
with Lenu’s (Niamh Cusack) and Lila’s (Catherine McCormack)
tenement block neighbours, helped me to immerse in the first two-and-a-half
hours, that take us from the girl’s school days to young adult hood. Their mid and elderly years, highlighted in
Part Two, became more confusing, especially as many of the cast take on several
parts.
That’s not to say that
reading the books is a prerequisite for seeing Melly Still’s epic
production, which was first shown at The Rose Theatre, Kingston in
2017. There is much to recommend
it. Soutra Gilmour’s sparse set,
comprising four mobile staircases, cleverly evokes the cramped streets housing
the tenement blocks of impoverished Naples and the soundtrack depicting the
various eras in which each scene is set is wonderful.
The whole story is narrated
by Lenu and begins in the 1950’s when she and Lila first begin the friendship
that will last a lifetime. As with many
relationships, theirs is not perfect, with competitiveness lying at its
heart. It also begins with a betrayal,
for Lila, having persuaded Lenu to trade dolls, proceeds to throw her friend’s
through a grille into a cellar belonging to a local loan shark, a man feared by
the neighbourhood children. After the
other girl reciprocates, it’s the more headstrong and fearless Lila who decides
the two of them need to forget their fears and retrieve their beloved toys.
Later, the bond between the two of them is eventually sealed, mafia style, with
the mixing of their blood. This is an
early nod to the fact that the mob will infiltrate their whole lives in one way
or another.
At the start, it’s clear
that precocious Lila is the more brilliant of the two friends. But fate decrees that her longing to write
the perfect novel, like her heroine Louisa May Alcott, is not to be. Instead it will be Lenu, whose parents allowed
her to stay on at school, who will eventually be successful. Not that all her literary achievements can be
attributed totally to her own work, for Lenu isn’t above copying her friend’s
original mind.
And so the story follows
Lenu and Lila’s journey through work, marriage, and motherhood amidst social
change and Italian politics. It’s a saga
that includes humour, social depravation and much violence. Melly Still very cleverly uses
symbolism to convey the violence meted out to Lila. She does so by lifting a replica of Lila’s
dress above her head and then hurling the disembodied outfit down a flight of
stairs, whilst the girl looks on. The
same treatment is used later when she is raped.
What doesn’t work so well is using firstly lycra puppets and then adults
to portray Lenu and Lila’s children.
Luckily none of the actors attempt
Italian accents and Niamh Cusack’s gentle Irish burr is perfect, as is
her portrayal of Lenu’s ordinariness.
Whilst one cannot really fault Catherine McCormack, I didn’t
believe in her characterisation of Lila quite so much. It seems a little forced, but I’m sure I’m in
the minority in thinking this.
Having seen the excellent
television adaptation of Books One and Two, I had my doubts as to how My
Brilliant Friend would transfer to the stage. There was no need to worry, for this version
remains true to Ferrante’s vision and is well worth seeing.
