The Caretaker
By Harold Pinter
At the
Trafalgar Studios
I admit to having been reluctant
to go to this latest version of The
Caretaker, despite the excellent reviews Jonathon Pryce has received.
However I think the main reason for this was a continued hangover of
disappointment from the Michael Gambon version 6 years ago. I had been really
looking forward to that and (sorry for this name-dropping moment) had been
talking to Gambon about it. I tried so hard to enjoy it, to find that hidden
talisman that makes The Caretaker one
of the 20th century’s great plays. In the end I had to admit that I
found it really rather boring. With that I gave up on Pinter. So I was
reluctant to revisit this disappointment, and perhaps simply because
expectations were so different, thoroughly enjoyed this new production.
Nonetheless, it is a mystifying play to me and I still need convincing of its
greatness.
As with all Pinter we have three characters in a
room. Aston (Peter McDonald), his brother Mick (Sam Spruell) and the tramp
(traveller/homeless person) Davies (Jonathon Pryce). Davies is befriended by
the slightly slow witted Aston and is invited to share his rather dilapidated
room. At first Davies is delighted with his luck, though is terrified by Mick
who often arrives in the room usually when Aston isn’t there. Over time (but
how much time?) relations turn round and soon Davies is aggressively angry at
Aston for not looking after his needs sufficiently and thinks Mick will prove
to be an ally. He is wrong and eventually teh brothers combine and the play
ends with Davies seemingly forced to move out.
Perhaps you can see why this plot could be boring.
That it isn’t is down to the cast. Pryce’s South Wales Valleys accent
captivated me immediately, he sounded like many of my relatives. Pinter’s abbreviated,
stuttering language sounded entirely authentic coming from Pryce’s busy
character. His energy carries every scene, his heightened outrage at any
criticism, his snivelling attempts to curry favour when it look like things are
going wrong, his exaggerated confidence in his ability to make things go right
soon. Aston spends a great deal of time not talking, but his one extended
speech telling of his time in a mental asylum, is movingly delivered. Mick, who
reminded me of a young Pete Birks, his confident, wise-cracking certainty so
different from his brother. You sensed danger from Mick and Davies is desperate
to make him an ally.
The play centres on what doesn’t happen. Davies is
never going to go to Sidcup to pick up his papers, Aston is never going to
construct his shed, Mick is never going to turn this shabby slum into a
penthouse flat. In fact, none of the characters does a thing during the play
and you know that they never will, however long they wait. In this sense
perhaps it is a re-telling of Waiting for
Godot (or vice versa) since their elaborate charades could be seen as
filling in time, a curious solution to the existential crisis, waiting for a
pointless life to end. Or maybe not. The problem isn’t so much the utterly
understandable Davies – simple selfishness at every turn explains his actions -
but on what the relationship is between the brothers. Twice in this production
they use focussed lights to show Mick standing outside the room while Aston and
Davies are inside. While this is clearly done for a purpose, I’m afraid it
passed me by.
Pinter is credited with putting real words back onto
the English stage, successfully ousting the stylised speech then prevalent. Yet
this language is not something I have ever heard. It does include unfinished
sentences, unfinished thoughts, abrupt non-sequiturs, which is how ‘real life’
people talk. But it is also often devoid of sense. But I am not alone in
struggling with what this is all about. Terrance Rattigan suggested that Mick
was the Old Testament God while Aston was the New, but Pinter told him that it
was really about two brothers and caretaker....
So I am no closer to understanding what Pinter is
doing with this play or why it is so revered. However thanks to the excellent
acting and the energy of Pryce and the cast it was a thoroughly entertaining
evening and does encourage me not to give up on Pinter entirely.
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