
Look Back In Anger was written by John Osborne in 1957. It was considered the first of the anti-drawing room plays and introduced to the stage the “angry young man.” Fifty five years later, he is still quite angry. The play has been produced recently at home (London) and abroad, it has also been made into a film. This Roundabout Theatre production directed by Sam Gold is a four character interpretation of the play.
Jimmy (Matthew Rhys) a working class university graduate is married to Alison (Sarah Goldberg) the daughter of a colonel. Jimmy runs a sweets stall with Cliff (Adam Driver) who also lives with the couple. Later they are joined by Alison’s actress friend from childhood, Helena (Charlotte Parry.) The fifth character, the most prominent of players, is the set. The stage at the Laura Pels is reduced to a depth of six feet. It is the bleakest and filthiest of sets you are likely to ever see. Dishes, laundry, trash, and food litter the floor and a stained mattress is propped in a corner. The filth only grows as the play progresses. The (relatively) tiny stage and the use of a lit “offstage” work to reinforce the utter claustrophobia of the characters’ lives. Having the actors sit on the aisle (on the edge of the audience) is not distracting but it also does not add anything. It is just one device that is employed to add elements of realness and rawness to this production.
Jimmy is a character you have seen portrayed often. He is filled with self-loathing and expresses it through verbal abuse and absolute derision for those he loves. He is above all else, a victim. His regal looking wife Alison spends much of the first act in an open dressing gown, half-slip and bra. She dutifully irons her husband’s underwear as he hurtles insults her way. To avoid boredom, Jimmy also goes after Cliff, often physically. While these goings on are certainly tedious, the performances are riveting. The actors are so thoroughly immersed in their characters it is impossible to remember their past performances (of which I’ve seen several.) There is a comfort with their characters which is rarely seen. This is a very physical play, with much wrestling (fight direction by Thomas Schall) in a very small space. Not once, did any of the tousling look staged. There is also much silliness, mostly in the form of animal imitations, which would look forced and moderately humiliating in lesser hands.
Helena arrives later in the play, looking groomed and radiant and reminding us that not everyone lives amidst such squalor. Discovering the way in which her friend is living and taking into consideration Alison’s yet to be announced pregnancy, she arranges to send Alison back to her family. I have to admit that I did not see that coming. I wasn’t necessarily hoping for Alison to stay with Jimmy, I’m just not sure of her motivation to leave. Needless to say, Helena and Jimmy start up an affair. I say “needless to say” from a theatrical perspective, not a psychological one. It’s not clear what either of these women see in Jimmy. Now if they had fallen for his friend Cliff, I could understand. Cliff is the only sympathetic character around. He is loving and filled with an inexplicable optimism.
The house lights are used throughout the production to create mood, or anti-mood as the case may be. Both acts begin with full house lights. There are several minutes of silent action that occur fully lit. The effect is lost on an audience who would rather talk amongst themselves. Call it Pavlovian, but the full house simply would not silence until they were plunged into darkness. Their talking was actually less distracting than was my empathy for actors being ignored. The curtain-less (does anyone use curtains anymore?) six foot deep stage feels like a thrust, and the fully lit “wings” add to the intimacy. I found so much full lighting and lack of “off-stage” just a wee bit distracting. The acting really speaks for itself here.
The staging itself is beautiful, as is the acting, but the play simply left me cold. While Cliff is a most sympathetic character, nothing much happens to him. As the play came to a close, the previously excruciatingly well behaved woman seated next to me started to rustle in her purse. I could not discern what in the world she would be doing, until she brought a tissue to her nose. “Oh,” I thought, “she has a cold.” No. She was crying. Did something sad happen? Now, I am not made of stone. I have been known to well up over curtain calls. But I found nothing particularly moving about these characters, or their lives. I had a bit of trouble believing that anyone would actually make a salad while sitting on the floor and toss the unused bits around the floor. If the play was making the leap into surrealism, I would have been fine. But clearly the claim to fame for this particular play and production is its realism. However, I would see it again for the performances alone.
Have A Nice Day
The third Monday of January has long been recognized as the most depressing day of the year. This no doubt refers to it being a day that collectively, most people find to be depressing. It should in no way mitigate the individuals’ own special personal days of bleakness. But, it is said, that like New Year’s Eve, Thanksgiving and the like, the third day of January is a shared celebration. No silly hats, champagne or mini-marshmallows, this communal experience has more to do with hiding under the covers. It is the day on which we presumably realize the extent of our December expenditures and the temporary nature of our resolutions.
Well the third Monday has come and gone, and it’s safe to say the gloom lingers. If December is the month of “goodwill towards man,” January is the month of “get the hell out of my way.” The general crankiness simply can not be ignored. Ordinarily I chose to react to Scrooge McDuckery with thoughts of “oh that poor man must not be feeling well.” I force myself to consider the health emergency that woman (screaming into her cell phone on the bus) must be having. I am now running out of scenarios and patience. Even dear Pollyanna would be exhausted at the end of January. When the grumpy old man visiting my upstairs neighbor cursed at me in the elevator, I actually cried. Even the sturdiest of us does not wither from an old man’s curse. When the woman pawing through boxes of shoes as if looking for hidden treasure, pulled them all down upon me, I got a little sad. When she told me to move because now the piles of boxes and crumpled me were in her way, I got a little angry. And that must be how it starts.
The artificially induced good cheer of December is gone. Bills have mounted, social events have dwindled, the news is filled with political sniping, and we did not succeed at quitting smoking and losing 20 pounds. We start our day cranky, and then we are forced into a world with other cranky people. Even in the virtual world, you can see a spike in snark, I have not conducted an actual study, but observations would suggest that tweets and blog comments today are as dark as 5:00 on a January afternoon. There you are, reading through a news site, interested in the (potentially) insightful comments made by other readers and BAM!: the equivalent of schoolyard taunting and/or graffiti appears. Never insightful, rarely humorous, these remarks are the equivalent of a toddler’s tantrum. “Look at me” they scream, “I am SO relevant.” Of course these small minded snarks are always around, but during other months they don’t appear often on serious news sites.
It’s January. I’m no groundhog, but I’m going to estimate we have at least two months left of winter. Might I suggest we take a collected cleansing breath. Let’s remind ourselves that it is January now but soon it won’t be. The bills will get paid, one way or another. Spring is always a better time to start a physical fitness regime. And the best way to make the world seem a little cheerier is to be a little cheerier. Smile at someone. Hold a door open. Let today be the day you do not stand in front of the subway door. Ask the tourist if they need directions. And remember, just because you have thought of a snarky comeback, doesn’t mean you have to say it out loud. If Clarence the angel paid you a visit today, don’t you really want to see all the people in your past not having their feelings hurt?
Posted by Anonymous on January 25, 2012 in Cultural Critique
Tags: blog comments, Brenda Tobias, Clarence the angel, kindness, Mr. Potter, new year resolutions, Pollyanna, Scrooge McDuck, snark, tweets