by Syed Zaid Ali
“Daddy” A Melodrama – 5/5
Honestly, this wasn’t a play I looked forward to much at all. I knew that the only reason I’d even consider going was to see Claes Bang (whom you might recognise from The Square, The Northman and/or BBC’s Dracula) on stage.
I’m not sure that I can articulate how grateful I am that I saw it anyway.
The play follows a young black artist Franklin (Terique Jarrett) who comes under the patronage of Andre (Claes Bang), a middle-aged, white, art collector. Their interactions develop into those of an intimate romance, and what results is a gripping exploration of power dynamics within this interracial, intergenerational relationship.
The set design is one I’ll never forget. Including an actual swimming pool built into the stage, the set is redolent of the paintings of David Hockney such as A Bigger Splash or Pool with Two Figures. This is particularly salient when one considers the focus both the writer Jeremy O. Harris and Hockney place on the male form: the former calling for Franklin to be “dripping wet and wearing only a speedo” in the opening scene, as is expected of the setting. Just beyond the pool, there is a “mid-century modernist villa, one of Los Angeles’ most enduring architectural tropes”—as described by Miles Gertler in the programme—situated in the “conspicuously white Bel Air”, which also serves to elucidate the conflicts between Franklin and Andre.
Symbolism here is executed precisely. As an artist, Franklin focuses on dolls—an object most closely related to childhood and domestic settings. This ties into the title of the play, which repeatedly manifests itself throughout: “Call me that again,” Andre tells Franklin in a particularly charged scene of roleplay. “Daddy” also happens to be what Franklin titles his exhibition of dolls. Furthermore, we occasionally hear a phone ring, but no one answers—likely Franklin’s absent father, with an attempt at reconciliation. As a subject matter, this has been tackled countless times in many forms of media, but “Daddy” is one in which it is treated skilfully, forcing us to draw connections between these relationships that Franklin has, with Andre filling in the void left behind by his father.
The Southbury Child – 4/5
The Southbury Child poses questions about the role of the church in an increasingly secular society. As the plot follows, when a family turns to the church in their time of need, they are seemingly let down. Following the death of a young girl, her family approaches the local church to hold a funeral service for her, and they ask the priest David (Alex Jennings) to have balloons in the church for the service. David refuses. They try again, and then again, but David doesn’t budge. This seemingly mundane request produces the central conflict that drives the play, as it balloons into a wider movement amongst the townsfolk, with them even printing T-shirts protesting David’s tenacity.
The balloon fiasco may seem like a rather odd hill to die on, as one reviewer from The Guardian points out, but the complexities it reveals within David’s character are what kept the play engaging for me. Struggling with drinking and a failing marriage, he likely views his unwillingness to compromise as an act of devotion; a way to “prove himself worthy of God”, as that same reviewer mentions. Through a more skeptical point of view however, one might consider his position being almost all that he has left in this world, and so he exercises the power it grants him. What results is something of a God complex, since he believes that caving in would be “giving them what they wanted, not what they need”. Regardless of his faults, it’s difficult not to sympathise with him, as we sense his humanity; this is a man finding purpose where there seems to be none. Perhaps it is also a result of the good amount of laughs the script produces that keeps us from turning against David – the humour tends to be sharp and witty despite the events that make up the play.
The first half of the play is solid, and ends strong with an explosive confrontation between the dead child’s mother, Tina Southbury (Sarah Twomey) and David, who keeps opposing her wishes to have balloons for the funeral. Jennings’ performance is fantastic – as is expected from a three-time Olivier Award winner – but it is consistently matched by Twomey in this heart-wrenching scene. The second half however is steeped in a little too much melodrama. Nevertheless, the play manages to work for me, making for a good afternoon at the Bridge Theatre.
The Glass Menagerie – 3/5
Largely known as the play that managed to launch Tennessee Williams from obscurity, The Glass Menagerie follows Tom Wingfield as he recalls his memories of living with his mother, Amanda (Amy Adams) and sister, Laura (Lizzie Annis) in the decade following the Great Depression. The plot centres around Amanda trying to secure a gentleman caller for Laura, who finds herself unable to find a job or meet anyone as a result of her emotional and physical frailty, and the struggles that Tom faces as the breadwinner following his father’s abandonment of the family.
Anyone familiar with Williams’ breakthrough hit will appreciate the importance of staging in presenting the recollections in this so-called ‘memory play’. It is clear that this production at the Duke of York’s Theatre understands that importance. The titular collection of glass animals takes centre stage in modern glass shelving on a raised platform where the main action takes place – it stands out anachronistically against the period furniture placed around the platform, as it is the only piece of furniture on the practical stage. This choice by set designer Vicki Mortimer underscores the importance of Laura in Tom’s memories of the Wingfield household, since the delicate glass sculptures were taken care of by her. Additionally, since present-day Tom (Paul Hilton) and past Tom (Tom Glynn-Carney) are played by two actors, the set allows for the audience to observe present-day Tom – who often walks around to the raised platform as the past Tom acts out the memories on top of it – react in real time.
Where the staging succeeds, the direction taken with the characters falters. Through a close reading of the text, I empathised with Tom. His guilt for his decision to leave home – effectively abandoning his crippled sister with his overbearing mother – should come through quite easily, but the love he has for his sister hardly ever came through in this production. This may have been caused by the direction they took with Tom, dividing up his role between two actors, which could be detrimental to an audience member’s attempts to relate to him.
The way Amanda was presented could have been handled differently as well. The presentation here is one that feels incredibly sympathetic – perhaps too much so, as there are moments where she should come across as controlling and difficult, but doesn’t. What results is a difficulty in truly internalising Tom’s motive for leaving; this ends up seeming rather trivial, since it seems as though he’s leaving a loving household for no real reason.
In the end, viewers might end up feeling puzzled as to why this play helped cement Williams as one of the great American playwrights, since the characters’ motives are muddled somewhat. Despite all this, the significance of what he called ‘plastic theatre’ – using non-realistic staging to convey subjective experiences – comes through with this production’s impressionistic set design.
