There was an added difficulty to writing about this as well, I can’t see a way of approaching it without discussing issues that are when we get down to it, personal. But a lot of the time that’s the nature of art, it demands us to confront things that perhaps normally we would choose not to. So sorry this is going to be personal. That’s also, I think, tied into why this play works for some people and not for others. At the plays heart there is a portrayal of depression, though the word itself is never used, it’s not tackling the subject head on and I think maybe your personal experience or understanding of the illness affect how you see this. Which isn’t to say it’s a simple division between those who have had and those who have not had depression – it doesn’t work like that, there isn’t one experience of depression, one easy definition, one set of symptoms, one cure... It is a disease individually tailored. So what might ring true for one person, certainly won’t for another.
But this did ring true for me, to the extent that I can’t help but wonder a little if the gaps in this play allow it to act like a mirror – if those of us susceptible, perhaps, fill them with our own details and textures and understandings, until really what we’re seeing is ourself. If so, it’s a fascinating, if frequently uncomfortable experience.
I found I recognised a huge amount of myself in Tom Brooke’s character The One and was equally fascinated by him and repulsed (the character rather than the actor I should add). There was something manipulative and unhealthy in his relationship with Jack Laskey’s The Other – with the constant attempts to pull him into the diseased world he was building, the ways he pushed him further, the ways he used veiled threats to keep him by his side... I’ve suffered with depression for over ten years and whilst I’m currently in a remission (a term I feel horrible for appropriating from more ‘real’ illnesses, but one that seems apt) I can recognise that whilst I am depressed I am at my most manipulative, whilst also at my least rational and my least able to recognise what I was doing. One of the strongest images that remained for me from the play was of Laskey led on the deck trying to explain what he loved about the ocean, trying to build a connection through it to The One, whilst Brooke stood high above him, revelling in the moment, half a magician and half a devil. An impression which made me a little surprised to see the reviewers describing this as beautiful or displaying the power of love.
There was also a recognition for me in the failure of words. When I’m depressed language is one of the tools that seems to vanish. I remember vividly a day when I couldn’t speak for two hours, I could only follow a pre-rehearsed script and when people ventured from that I was completely lost, though that’s an extreme example. Even when I’m mostly better, I still find words wholly inadequate, I’m left grappling with metaphors to try and explain my feeling – none of which ever quite fitted. That’s addressed here and I think as well is reflected in the lacklustre quality of the script – there is no poetry here, just fractured words and simple images. I don’t think we’re ever supposed to believe what’s being said too deeply – especially combined with Brooke’s distractions, diversions and my inability to trust anything the character said. In fact it was the things that were left unsaid that I found most interesting and the script is littered with moments when the characters break off (Must admit I have found it a little frustrating to read due to it’s insistence on specifying the length of the pauses, though I soon found myself skimming past them).
Possibly one of my favourite scenes in the play is because of the layer of deception I believe Brooke is maintaining – there is a moment in the middle of a growing storm when Laskey comes closest to challenging Brooke and the entire scene stops, they step off the boat, the illusion of the storm is lost and for a moment they’re just arguing on the beach, it was the most truthful moment in the play for me.
Which I suspect is as good a place as any to stop and talk about the staging – truly magical. The majority of the space in the auditorium had been given over to a beach with a wide pool of water in it’s centre, out of which rose, rather dramatically, a square wooden platform doubling as the boat. Which was manipulated throughout to represent the boats movement whether the gentle sway of calm waters, with the actors reflected in its stillness, or the erratic violent motion of the storm that followed. The water as well became a much more living element to the set than I initially expected, with the audience being in danger of a soaking more than once and the actors frequently so. I loved a moment when the platform vanished entirely again, leaving Laskey knelt in the pool of water –utterly deject. All of which was beautifully lit, with a stark absence of sound except that created by the set and actors themselves.
Despite really loving the staging, and equally loving Laskey and Brooke both of whom did an exceptional job – I would be equally curious to see a different approach to the play, to see a more defined relationship between the two characters. For some reason in my head I have been stuck with the image of a mother and daughter in a therapists office – I can’t help but wonder how that would affect my perceptions of the piece, though perhaps that would make it all too easy. Still, this desire shouldn’t be seen as a criticism in any sense.
A difficult play and one I certainly don’t think would be effective for all people – I’m sure what I found infinitely recognisable, for others would be distancing, shallow and untrue. But I do believe this is well worth checking out, to see if it resonates for you.
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