72. Silence - RSC and Filter at the Hampstead Theatre

Writing about this play, in itself, has proved to be an interesting experience and something of an opinion altering one. My overriding feeling when I left the Hampstead Theatre following Silence was of vaguely underwhelmed dissatisfaction. I certainly didn’t hate the piece but I definitely felt disappointed. Yet, as I’ve been working out what I want to say about it I’ve remembered more and more things that I loved, enough that under normal circumstances I might have been blown away. So why wasn’t I?


Perhaps it’s a case of the whole not matching up to the sum of its parts and Silence certainly suffered from an almost scattered incoherency which might account for that affect (though in many ways this was also part of its charm). Really though I suspect it’s that this failed to match my expectations, I’d really loved Filter’s Water earlier in the year and given my love for the RSC ensemble, I was quite probably unreasonably excited. But for the first time, I felt like being familiar with a companies work was actually detrimental to my enjoyment.

I found it difficult to shake off the memory of Water – Silence in focus, ideas and execution didn’t seem to have progressed far. The collision of personal and professional still seemed to be the defining focus of the piece and, for example, it almost felt to me that Oliver Dimsdale’s characters could have been transferred between either play without much difficulty. Plus the sound collage created, whilst still impressive and inventive, had lost the power of surprise that had made it so mind blowing before. It also, oddly, felt almost gratuitous to me – the idea of music and sound itself was too central to the story. There was something charming about daily items being used to create the sound of water – music being used to create music somehow appealed less.

That said, I did like the overpowering richness of the sound design – the use of various artists and songs to reflect and illustrate moments in a life, as always, worked exceptionally effectively. Plus there was added poignancy for me as the portrait of Russia as a country both denied of music and enriched by it was instantly familiar having heard stories of friends’ illicitly buying copies of Beatles albums hidden in classical sleeves. I also greatly enjoyed the exploration of Peter the Sound Engineer and how his aural perception of the world altered the way he experienced it.

The role was engagingly and vulnerably played by Jonjo O’Neill and the almost-relationship between him and Mariah Gale as Mary was, for me, the most moving and emotionally effective of the evening. It was fascinating too, to see how much this had altered from the printed playtext, it had been simplified greatly, with Mary’s loneliness highlighted, creating a subtler and more bittersweet story. Though, I suspect, we were also treated to some on the spot adlibbing as O’Neill’s mother was in the audience (a fact alluded to within the performance).

In contrast, the aural concept of tinnitus used as a central factor in the relationship between Alexei (Ferdy Roberts) and Kate (Katy Stephens) was less effective. The idea that Alexei’s very presence could banish Kate’s disease, lent a more mythical element to their relationship which didn’t completely work for me and whilst I loved the idea of a relationship experienced in days scattered across years, I was not overly convinced or satisfied by the payout. Personally I felt that many of the storylines would have benefited from stronger, more clearly defined endings – it might have added coherency overall.

Despite my reservations about the story, there were enough interesting and excellent performances to make this, alongside the sound, an incredibly enriching experience. As well as O’Neill and Gale, I was particularly impressed by Patrick Romer, who impressively created a performance that both worked for the broadness of theatre and the subtlety of video (video screens dotted the stripped back industrial set – giving the audience an alternative view of the proceedings). I also loved a lot of the small background performances that the RSC truly excel at – Christine Entwhisle especially, whilst underused here, was wonderful to watch throughout (both her waitress and her hotel receptionist were wonderfully familiar and excellently funny).

All in all, this may have proved a bit of a mixed bag, but clearly impressed plenty of others around me – and what the story may have lacked was more than made up for by fantastic performances, clever ideas that I’m still musing over and a wonderful use of music and memory.