Escaped Alone at The Royal Court

Caryl Churchill is certainly a prolific writer.  Aged 77, she is still churning out plays, even if they’re often of the short one act variety.  Her latest offering at The Royal Court, as part of their sixtieth birthday celebrations, is a prime example, lasting a mere sixty minutes.  Directed by James Macdonald, Escaped Alone features four women drinking tea in the backyard belonging to one of them and discussing personal catastrophes and highlighting the epic kind.

As with all Caryl Churchill plays, Escaped Alone isn’t readily understandable.  Nothing is explained and it’s up to the audience to work out what she is getting at.  Puzzling, certainly, and not for those who want to watch a play with a beginning, middle and end.  She is often named as one of Britain’s most significant living dramatists.  That she has changed the language of theatre is beyond doubt, but I’m afraid I don’t always enjoy her work.  One of her main artistic objectives is to dramatise the abuse of power and to explore sexual politics and feminist themes, which is all very admirable.  The problem for me is that her non-naturalistic techniques often go way over my head and the point she is making isn’t hitting home.

This new play follows the usual path, but it does have its virtues, especially because it is written for a cast of four women within Churchill’s age range and the four actors involved are all exceptional.  Whilst it is definitely an ensemble piece, the magnificent Linda Bassett as Mrs. Jarratt, who chances upon her friend’s tea party, is the one who gets to relate the various catastrophic world-wide happenings.  The other three played by Deborah Findlay, Kika Markham and June Watson respectively solely discuss the personal.  However each of these three break off from the chit-chat to deliver a monologue about an event which has had a catastrophic effect on their daily lives.

The play is very amusing in places and some of the major catastrophes are challenging to listen to but there is one very special moment that is worth the ticket price alone.  This is when the four women break into a pitch perfect rendition of The Crystal’s Da Doo Ron Ron, complete with vocal backing music.  It is utterly delightful and very unexpected.

What is slightly more jarring are the unfinished sentences delivered by each of the women.  Fine in theory, but in practice it is imperative that each actor picks up on her cues super quickly to maintain fluidity.  I was at the first night preview so I’m sure that this will happen as the run progresses.

The Dazzle at Found111

 I am so relieved to have had a second chance to see The Dazzle after being thwarted the first time by an accident closing the M11.  It is an extraordinary production in every way; the subject matter, venue and brilliance of all three actors, especially the incomparable Andrew Scott.

The American dramatist Richard Greenberg wrote The Dazzle as a fictionalised recounting of the lives of the reclusive Collyer Brothers, admitting that he knew almost nothing about them.  What he did know was that their bodies were found buried under mounds and mounds of rubbish (140 tons to be exact) in their Harlem Brownstone mansion in 1947. 

His play opens in 1905 when the brothers, Homer and Langley, relatively young men, are still venturing into the world outside.  Langley (Andrew Scott) is a concert pianist, given to erratic mood swings, whilst Homer (David Dawson) a trained lawyer is his minder, manager and carer.  A third person comes into their lives in the shape of the pretty young and troubled heiress Milly Ashmore (Joanna Vanderham) who puts the cats amongst the pigeons by falling in love with and getting engaged to Langley in Act I and Homer in Act II.  But nothing is straightforward in the cloistered lives of these brothers, who to call eccentric would be an understatement.  By the second half the strangeness of their existence is raised several notches.  The hording of items, useful and anything but, has reached danger level and the only brother to venture outside is Langley and then only after dark when no one else is around.  By now he has become carer, to his older, blind sibling.  But I use the word carer lightly!

At no point does Richard Greenberg judge the lives or personalities of these three tragic human beings.  Rather he opens up a window on their world, and imbues them with humour, a unique if outlandish outlook on life and, ultimately, love for each other.  The setting for this remarkable play gives the audience the feeling that they are actually sitting in the corner of the sitting room in the brother’s house, watching their disintegration unfold.  Designer Ben Stones has located the room, complete with grand piano, amongst many other things, on the top floor of the old Central St Martins building entitled Found111 and it is approached by climbing several flights of concrete stairs.  The room itself is small with mismatched wooden chairs, topped with cushions (thankfully) laid out on three sides.  Thus the actors are never more than a few feet away and the whites of their eyes are constantly visible.  It makes for an intense experience, whilst the ever present, if muted, London hubbub in the background adds to the notion that we are actually in the Harlem brownstone.

Director Simons Evans ensures that the brothers’ performances don’t veer over into sentimentality.  Both actors inhabit their characters, highlighting their differences and ultimately their quirky similarities.  Whilst we, the audience, feel nothing but pity for the pair, we can understand the mistrust that was felt by their New York neighbours and why the Collyer brother’s home became a zoo like prison, with those on the outside leering in at them.  We can almost understand the men’s mounting paranoia that the only safe place to be is hiding within and beneath their hoards of rubbish.  

All three actors aid the director’s vision perfectly.  If anyone thinks that Andrew Scott’s main claim to fame is to play the villain, think again.  He can turn his hand to anything and his portrayal of the younger Collyer brother is wonderfully nuanced.  He perfectly highlights the man’s childlike quality and his highly tuned sensitivity towards everything around him, from an imperceptible incorrect piano note to a tassle (the Dazzle of the title) he hangs on a light fitting.  Unfortunately this sensitivity does not extend towards the other two characters, which proves devastating to both Milly and Homer.

Homer, whilst sharing his brother’s brilliant brain, is a different character altogether.  He tries to mask the hurt unknowingly inflicted by Langley, by sarcastic reposts and quick changes of heart.  But the hurt is there, flickering across David Dawson’s wonderful malleable face.  He is more than equal to the task of sharing a stage with the wonderful Andrew Scott.

More than up to the job of playing Milly is the young Joanna Vanderham, managing to emanate vulnerability and sensuality.  She is a worthy third side of the triangle.

Ostensibly a play about obsessive behaviour, The Dazzle is ultimately a tragic love story and I retraced my steps down the concrete stairs with an enormous lump in my throat and the knowledge that I had witnessed something very special.

Thank you once again Michael Grandage.  You never disappoint.

Les Liaisons Dangereuses at The Donmar

I know I shouldn’t make a comparison, but feel the need because the original production of Christopher Hampton’s adaptation of Choderlos de Laclos’s 1782 novel made such an impression.  Whilst this latest offering at The Donmar is excellent, it doesn’t exert the same menace or sexual frisson as that given off by Alan Rickman and Lindsay Duncan in the mid eighties.

A drama of revenge using sex as the weapon still has the power to shock.  The main perpetrators are La Marquise de Merteuil and her ex-lover, Le Vicomte de Valmont.  Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned was as true then as it is now, with the Marquise instigating the whole sordid plan.  Because La Marquise was thrown to one side by the future fiancée of the ingenue, Cecile Volanges, she aims to get her own back by challenging Valmont to seduce the young virgin.  He easily completes this task, as well as undertaking another for his own benefit. His prime target in this instance is Madame de Tourvel.  The problem is that he hasn’t taken into account that he might actually fall in love with the married lady in the process.  This is bad news for him and La Marquise, who still holds a very bright torch for her partner in crime. 

Tom Scutt’s design suggests a chateau in a state of flux.  The set contains the trappings of wealth but one in desperate need of a make-over.  The walls are scuffed and have paintings leaning against them rather than hung.  It suggests impermanence; what was, is, or soon will be …. gone.  This is affecting.  What is not is the covering of all the furnishings by what appears to be white muslin, but turns out to be some type of plastic.  It works as a covering for the sleeping Cecile but is very disconcerting when the actors have to wade through it.

In my opinion, the evening belongs to Janet McTeer as the controlling Marquise.  Statuesque and languidly elegant in pale grey satin, her flashing eyes prove a window into her soul.  They reflect her initial scheming and final loss, when we realise that this manipulative, supposedly strong woman, is actually truly vulnerable.

Dominic West isn’t (or certainly wasn’t when I saw the play) quite so at ease in his role as Valmont, at least until he succumbs to love in the Second Act.  Whether this is due to him being unsure of his lines, or miscast, I’m not sure, but I hope this excellent actor becomes more sexually predatory as the run progresses.  Maybe it’s the spectre of the sinuous Alan Rickman that’s the problem.  I hope so as Mr. West is undoubtedly one of our great actors who is more than capable of highlighting his steamy side (as shown in the US TV show The Affair).

Elaine Cassidy is an incredibly brittle Madame de Tourvel, but perfectly portrays the terror she feels at eventually surrendering to her sexual desires.   Her melt down in Valmont’s arms is alarming to watch.  I can’t help but wonder how Michelle Docherty would have fared in the role.