Taut, claustrophobic and unsettling, Richard Eyre’s striking adaptation of Strindberg’s tragicomic play is a perfect match for the Orange Tree’s intimate auditorium, its searing portrait of a toxic marriage given maximum velocity within such a compact setting.
OUR VERDICT
Nobby Clark
Set on a remote island, its original turn of the twentieth century timeframe now becomes 1918 when the Spanish flu epidemic was causing havoc across Europe. This interesting tweak neatly reminds us of the recent Covid pandemic (with its sense of restriction) and emphasises the isolation enveloping a couple locked into an excruciating relationship of mutual -if inexplicable- dependence and utter loathing.
As an advocate of matrimonial harmony, Strindberg would fall at the first hurdle, but his incisive vision of a world shifting on uncertain sands is certainly one that’s familiar and prescient. Eyre’s suggestion here of Edgar’s existential woes is excellently conveyed by a first-rate Will Keen.
Ashley Martin-Davis’ gentle, blue-hued set conjuring the sea and John Leonard’s coastal soundscape both capture the island setting well and enhance the strong feeling of loneliness engulfing the couple who have alienated most of their neighbours as well as their children and have only each other for company in the fragile lifeboat of their life.
Apparently inspired by the relationship of Strindberg’s sister and her husband, Eyre is right when he says Strindberg “takes marital anger to a nuclear level,” and it can be hard to watch, for this is a pair who even play cards with vituperative abandon.
Nobby Clark
As the play opens, we witness Keen’s Edgar (guardian of the local garrison) berating his wife Alice (Lisa Dillon), a military martinet seemingly mired in misery and petty one-upmanship, Alice the butt of his ill humour.
But as the play progresses we see the more equal ebb and flow of their strange relationship, briefly interrupted by the arrival of Kurt (Geoffrey Streatfeild), a quarantine inspector and Alice’s cousin who becomes an uncomfortable pawn in their power struggle; the teleprinter, too functions almost as another character within such a suffocating environment as its missives bring hope or temporary relief.
You can certainly see echoes of Strindberg’s play in Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, which of course revolves around another verbally venomous couple, and Richard Eyre has certainly ensured his version offers welcome flashes of humour, principally in the manic posturings of the debilitated Edgar, (Keen on fine form) or the ridiculously barbed dialogue between the warring couple.
It’s hard, though, to feel fully engaged with such unpleasant protagonists.
A challenging, deeply bleak play, terrifically acted, sometimes sidestepping the pathos inherent in such a painful situation, but no one could deny that it’s brought to the stage here with panache and consummate style.
Orange Tree Theatre
1 Clarence Street, Richmond, TW9 2SA
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Monday 12pm - 6pm Tuesday 12pm - 6pm Wednesday 12pm - 6pm Thursday 12pm - 6pm Friday 12pm - 6pm Saturday 12pm - 6pm Sunday Closed
