Thoughts O'PlentyPLENTY by David Hare
Albery Theatre-London
Review: Sally Woodcock
Email: SallyIn the programme notes, David Hare states that his principal motivation for reviving PLENTY in 1999 is for the purpose of investigating how it holds up for a young audience for whom the second world war has no immediate relevance.
I, and I imagine a lot of others attracted to this play "starring Cate Blanchett", are of a generation who have only really come to understand the impact of the war in terms of it's political gains and losses, whilst the personal element is left to be accounted for by the access we are given to the recollections of our grandparents' generation, recollections which can sometimes seem inexplicable to those of us who would seek to understand something so seemingly tragic and painful - the sense of pride and excitement, an apparent romanticisation of the reality - the medals, the comradeship, the courage, the triumph of the human spirit over such atrocity, the elder gentlemen who seem insistent upon living out their twilight years as twenty-something soldiers getting drunk in the officer's mess, representing "the club" of those who experienced it all.
In this older generation's failure to communicate what my generation really wants to know about "the truth" of the war, lies the truth we have been missing out on by seeking to rectify our own feelings of exclusion - that the need to find a valid personal justification for what happened and the manifestation of this justification amongst those who survived is perhaps more revelatory than any fact about the war itself.
This is the territory PLENTY inhabits and what a bleak conclusion it draws. The characters and their reactions depicted in PLENTY are undeniably British and the play subsequently serves as a fascinating document of social history and it has certainly inspired me to seek out further understanding of this era.
However, it assumes a modern relevance particularly in 1999, as we look back over this century - indeed this millennium - and anticipate the future. As with the war, the way in which we interpret our past, will determine how equipped we are to forge an enlightened future.
The situations differ in that, in contemporary America, Britain and Australia to name but three, we are afforded a comparative objectivity in our hindsight over events, given that enough time has passed since the last previous cause of mass national trauma to most likely eliminate the confused emotional response that a war surely impacts upon people.
Now those amongst us who are still nursing their war-time scars are gradually disappearing, it is plays like PLENTY that remind us of why it is important to remember their lives as much as it is to give praise and blessing to those who sacrificed theirs - the struggle is not only in the physical nature of war itself, but in the "moving on".
Susan Traherne does "desperately want to be moving on" and her struggle leads her down the path of mental illness. We witness Susan's disillusionment amongst the diplomats whose "recovery" agenda is to simply get on with the business of clearing-up and climbing back up the political ladder; her frustration at the perceived lack of motivation for the wonderful changes that the end of the war had promised; and finally, her deteriorating nervous condition which peaks in the shaming climate of the Suez crisis.
In light of Britain's failure to make sense of it's physical and psychological state and to evolve beyond it in some manner of justification, it becomes apparent that only the experiences of the war itself could serve as defining moments in Susan's life and that the brilliant flashes of promise, liberation and profundity that occurred between explosions and torch-lights in the dark were the noblest revelations and accomplishments she would see.
Susan's inability to reconcile past, present and future and her subsequent breakdown mirrors the tragedy of post-war Britain and ultimately explains the reason why so many of those who survived the war have continued, to this day, to seek comfort, pride and identity in the exclusive confines of their wartime memories, both personal and collective.
So, what a demand this places upon any actress undertaking the responsibility of portraying not only the immediately complex psychological descent of an intelligent, ambitious, insightful but highly-strung woman, but also the responsibility of representing a national psyche.
I cannot imagine a role in which each level is more equally difficult and yet more equally important to get right. It requires the actress to perform an extraordinary balancing act in surrendering to the depiction of emotional turmoil, whilst also encouraging a highly intellectual reading.
The structure of the play itself does her no favours in it's chronological pacing - within the break of a single scene, the passing of several years dictates an accelerated change of pitch within the performance and, although I felt these changes to be more than adequately justified during the course of each scene, it requires an audience to make an unprepared for leap with the performance and, judging by several comments I overheard during the interval, it can bestow an unforgiving judgement of "shrillness" upon the actress.
Cate Blanchett, however, transcends these challenges with a skill and focus that is so complete as to barely register many of the accomplishments for which a lesser actress in a lesser role would receive accolades a-plenty.
It is the kind of performance with which I am sure are revealed new depths upon each viewing and I am definitely hoping to have several more opportunities to peel back the layers.
Instantly, Blanchett's presence on-stage is electrifying and one barely dares breathe as the tensions of Susan's mental condition crackle off her - at each stage of her deterioration, one wonders as to how much further the neurosis can be pushed before it snaps and, whilst Susan is clearly sinking to new depths, her observational faculties remain sharp and her articulation of them quite devastating and Blanchett's handling of this strangely accurate contradiction is unnervingly believable.
Susan wields her mental health problems as both a weapon and a shield - seemingly fully comprehending the effect her loss-of-control has on others without compromising it's status as a genuine loss-of-control. It is an astonishing performance, which blazes through your heart and head with a force that obliterates all else for hours and, I anticipate, days and weeks to come.
However, despite the commanding impression Blanchett makes, she is a generous actor and there is room for the whole cast to shine.
Particularly, excellent is Debra Gillett, as Susan's friend and room-mate, Alice - towards the end of the play, it is possible to absolutely see every movement Susan is making on the opposite side of the stage reflected in Gillett's face. Richard Johnson, as Sir Leonard Darwin, is also great value as the obligatory misguided, conservative, old-guard diplomat - blindly following tradition and protocol at all costs.
Maria Bjornson's set-design too is sympathetically unobtrusive, yet evocative and clear, whether settling in the claustrophobic dullness of Susan's tiny bed-sit or under the "mackerel" skies of a French field masquerading as something rather more mysterious in it's heavy mists and ever-retreating horizons.
Jonathon Kent's production is one of the richest and most rewarding artistic endeavours I could imagine witnessing and within the damning conclusions it draws about the politics of post-war Britain, it resounds with a poignancy and deeply-felt sympathy for the tragedy of those who were failed and any critics who might have you believe that there is nothing for us here beyond social documentation of a bygone era are failing you now.
May 4, 1999
Aussie Cate Online © 1999 Lin, Dean, Lance
800x600 screen size recommended.