Tuesday, 22 June 2010

'After The Dance' at The National Theatre

After a leisurely lunch in the Mezzanine Restaurant at the National Theatre on Sunday (courtesy of Sharon and Eamon, for which thanks) we were also treated to a performance of 'After The Dance', a Terence Rattigan play that I think Chris mentioned hadn't been put on in London since the original production in 1939.

It's the tale of the bright young things of the '20s who have grown middle aged by the time of the play in 1939, on the brink of a war they missed when they were young and will miss again now they are older. I lost count of the number of times the words 'gin', 'drink', 'boring' were used, but in the wealthy class before us on the stage, time seems to be measured by the number of drinks and there are a lot of drinks on the go. They're all terribly adult about everything, including the breakdown a marriage as a younger woman replaces an older and is still invited to a party because it would be boring not to. All the superficiality falls away as the wife collapses in the arms of the friend and admits she really loves the man she married 12 years earlier for a laugh. Later that night at the party she commits suicide and the third act looks at the consequences of that sad and wasted act. There's a lot going on in this play.

The play is in three acts with two half-times and majestically sails through a day in the life of the rich writer and his wife with the third act taking place six months later, with war declared and the former bright young things struggling to glow as they plan a 'gas-mask party'. The cut glass accents would need a sharpened diamond to split them and the period was brought to life on stage in a great set with a spacious living room with a rather distressed and abused sofa at a focal point. The set was the same in the first two acts and then totally different in the third - the same room, but the glasses and bottles were cleared away, the piano shut and other touches made it feel very different.

I thought the performances were excellent and I particularly liked Nancy Carroll as the older wife and Adrian Scarborough as the live-in hanger-on, posh but lacking funds. They both gained more sympathy as the play progressed, adding depth to their performances as we got to know and understand them. They played superficial but had real depth. I had less sympathy for Benedict Cumberbatch who played it on the level throughout until the final scene. But the one I disliked - and, let's face it, there's always one - was Faye Castelow who played the fiance of the main character's ward and who falls for the main character... or does she? or is it the money she falls for?

Y'see, I believe what I see, there's no suspension of disbelief with me, it's all or nothing, and Helen, the character played by Faye, was a superficial little cow, thinking everything is ok because we'll be adult and open about it. The fact that she's using the ward to get to the rich older man doesn't dawn on her as vaguely wrong and manipulative. Even though the older wife commits suicide on the evening that she's told by Helen that her husband will divorce her and marry Helen, she doesn't show any guilt or remorse. I don't like her. She's a pretty young thing with a heart of mould.

It was an excellent production and I'm pleased I've seen it. I don't think I've ever seen a Rattigan play before so maybe I ought to see more? I'd certainly like to see Nancy Carroll and Adrian Scarborough in another play.

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