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Escape to the Theatre

24/3/2013

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One of the most ancient mechanisms for escaping reality is the theatre. That being so, a little bit of theatrical criticism is well within the remit of this blog.  And it adds a bit of culture!   So, then...
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(Image as used in the programme for the 'Theatre on the Steps' production, by Bold Productions and Aberystwyth Arts Centre).
BETRAYAL by Howard Pinter

Theatre on the Steps, Bridgnorth, 16/3/13.

This is the first of Pinter’s plays I’ve seen, and it was certainly an interesting – and enjoyable – experience!

The story is essentially a simple one.  Robert and Jerry are old friends, and colleagues in the publishing business.  Emma is Roberts wife, and has had a long affair with Jerry.  So both of them have betrayed Robert.  Jerry thinks that Robert doesn’t know, but as events unfold it becomes clear that actually, Robert knew for a long time, and Emma knew that he knew – but didn’t tell Jerry.  So you could say that she betrayed him as well.  And Robert hasn’t bothered to mention it to Jerry either… around the simple premise there is woven a complex mesh of motivations and consequences.

One of the distinctive things about the play is that it works backwards in time, which can be confusing if you’re not aware of it!  The programme helped a bit, since each scene has the relevant year noted on it.  Scene One, for example is 1977, while the final scene (Eight) is 1968.  However, Scene Two is 1977-Later, and Scenes Five to Seven are all 1973, which make it even trickier!  Once these temporal gymnastics are taken into account, however, it becomes clearer.

There’s no ‘action’ in ‘Betrayal’.  It’s all dialogue – and props are a table and two chairs.  Oh, and several bottles of wine, but not much else!  But the dialogue is very clever and effectively done.  Without ever being directly told anything, the audience become increasingly aware of the personalities involved, of their actions, their backgrounds, and so on.  There is a lot of humour involved as well – particularly in Robert’s pompous and slightly surreal speeches.  However, one thing that I was quite impressed with was how much could be communicated without any dialogue at all – any spoken dialogue, at least.  This was particularly the case in the opening scene, where Jerry and Emma meet again some time after their affair ended.  The stilted conversation, and even more the long awkward silences, said eloquently that these two people had very little in common any more.

If I had any criticism, though it’s that Pinter seemed perhaps a little too fond of using these meaningful silences.  It worked brilliantly well in the opening scene, but the same technique was employed in other places as well, and to me it seemed a little overdone.

The real question I had, though, was why did Pinter use this reverse time effect?  Why not simply tell the story in straightforward chronological order?

My thought was this:  when we see the affair begin – in the last scene – Jerry is drunk and full of passion as he declares to Emma his love and desire for her. But when we see that, we already know how it’s going to end – with Jerry hung-over and distant.  There’s poignancy to the beginning of the affair, because we already know how it will end, and that the multiple betrayals will poison even the memories of what will happen.

It’s clever, it’s thought-provoking, it’s funny, and it’s sad.  A very fine piece of story-telling.

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The Wrong Trousers of Reality.

15/3/2013

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I remembered to change my shoes, but didn't notice my trousers!
Last Sunday evening I was leading a service in a local Methodist chapel – something I do regularly as a Methodist Local Preacher.

The good thing about having the evening service is that you get plenty of time to prepare yourself.  After dinner, I walked the dog (getting some fresh air to oxygenate my neurons).  During the afternoon (after a short nap to rest my neurons) I carefully read through my sermon (Hannah and Samuel, appropriate for Mothers Day – the Biblical basis for giving away your children).  I read it aloud, making sure I put the right emphasis on the right words.  I looked at the hymn’s I’d chosen and thought about how to introduce them.  I considered the prayers, and jotted down some points to mention.  I chose a psalm with which to introduce the service.

Finally, when I was clear in my mind about how it was going to go, I had a cup of coffee and a slice of cake (to re-vitalise the neurons), went upstairs to put on my tie, and set off.

Looking back, I did have some vague sense of discomfort while I was driving.  Nothing that really got my attention though.

I parked up, went into the chapel, said hello to several people I knew.  Gave my order of service to the steward, discussed the hymns with the organist.  Everything was fine, everyone was happy.

At the appointed time, I went out to the lectern.  I placed my notes, smiled, read out the psalm, announced the first hymn.

And that was when something made me glance down, and reality broke through my comfortable illusion of being in control.

I was wearing the wrong trousers.

Instead of the smart Sunday Best go-to-meeting trousers that I’d planned to wear, I still had on my slightly faded, slightly muddy, walk-the-dog trousers that I’d been wearing earlier. 

My pampered neurons had let me down.  In spite of all the care I had lavished on them, they had failed in their duty to remind me to change my trousers.

Several thoughts ran through my head in short space of time.  One was, inevitably, ‘They’re the Wrong Trousers, Grommit!’  But there was no clever dog to come to my rescue.  Our dog was back at home, sleeping off the walk I’d taken him on, and he’d never mentioned my trousers.

Another thought was ‘At least I’m wearing some trousers.’  Which was a good point - it could, after all, have been so much worse.

And I also remembered that the Bible tells us that ‘Man looks on the outward appearance, but God looks on the heart’.  It was comforting to be reassured that God didn’t care what I was wearing, but it was also a reminder that every member of the congregation must have noticed that I was wearing jeans.

Should I mention it, I wondered?  If I did, what should I say?  Of the top of my head, I couldn’t think of any credible excuse for preaching in the Wrong Trousers.  Better, I thought, not to draw attention to my breaches of etiquette.

So the service went on.  And when it came to its conclusion, the people of that chapel demonstrated what a godly group of men and women they were: for not one of them even mentioned my jeans.  Indeed, several said how much they had liked the service, and one even commented favourably on the sermon.  It seems that they had not been looking on my outward appearance at all!  Or if they had, it hadn’t bothered them.

So I came away from the service having learned something myselfNone of us can look into people’s hearts in the same way that God can.  But that doesn’t mean we have to get hung up on how they look! 

Still, next time I’ll check what I’m wearing.

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    Picture

    Paul Trembling

    Husband, father, dog owner, Christian, writer, and incurable daydreamer.  In no particular order of importance - they are all me.

    Welcome to my blog, where I will attempt to document my small corner of reality, and my attempts to escape from it.

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Photos used under Creative Commons from h.koppdelaney, BitterScripts, psicologiaclinica, x-ray delta one, Erik Daniel Drost, jonny goldstein, guzzphoto, inkknife_2000 (5 million views), Coletivo Mambembe, Doctor_Q, tmib_seattle, Howdy, I'm H. Michael Karshis, h.koppdelaney, Menage a Moi, Click*64, Su Bee Buzz!, Susan WD, World Around Richa, h.koppdelaney, gavin.lauchlan, garrettc, polandeze, Alan Cleaver