I've been lucky enough to see quite a lot of theatre in a short space of time recently.
Creditors on Saturday with
Maxine was the last play I'll be seeing for a while (at the moment anyway), and it was very much the icing on the cake. I had quite high expectations, and they were fulfilled.
Creditors was written by
Strindberg in 1888, and was, in part, influenced by Ibsen's play
Rosmersholm, specifically his exploration of the potentially destructive power of suggestion (at least, this is according to my undergraduate dissertation, which I wrote on representations of women in the work of Ibsen and Strindberg, through a comparison of six of their plays. I read over it briefly again on Sunday. My main verdict was that I hoped the version I have saved on this laptop was not my final version, as it would definitely have benefited from a good edit). As four years had passed since I wrote about it, I went in to see it with only a hazy remembrance of the details (although they did gradually come back to me as I was watching the play).
I'm not sure, when I studied it, whether I appreciated just how brilliantly structured this play is. I'm also not sure, having not compared translations, if it was brilliantly structured from the outset, or whether David Grieg's translation, and Alan Rickman's direction, improved it. Whatever the case, it was a thrill to watch. The opening dialogue in which Adolf (magnificently played by Tom Burke), a vulnerable artist waiting in a hotel room (a beautiful, clean white set) for his wife Tekla to return, pours his heart out to a stranger, Gustav (Owen Teale, also a great performance), was totally compelling. Gustav, unbeknownst to Adolf, was newly established novelist Tekla (Anna Chancellor)'s ex-husband. He transformed from a welcome confidant into a manipulative menace, clearly out to damage Tekla, the woman who abandoned him, and her new, young husband. By the end of the scene, he exerted complete control over Adolf, convincing him, amongst other things, that he had epilepsy, that Tekla did not love him, and that he should not sleep with her for a year. Creditors is known as a tragicomedy, and the tone was most certainly in keeping with this; despite the maliciousness of Gustav's intent, the audience often laughed at his bordering on melodramatic comments; not to mention the ridiculousness of some clearly misogynistic lines.
The first scene was not only riveting in itself, but the image of Tekla presented throughout as a manipulative, fickle, sensual and dangerous woman made me desperate for her to appear on stage. When she did in the next scene with Adolf, it was not disappointing. She was definitely sensual; but the line between affection for Adolf and controlling him as if he were a child seemed blurred, rather than presenting her as clearly dominating. Adolf struggled throughout the scene to establish control over her in the way that Gustav had advised him to; but his efforts became gradually more futile: whilst he appeared to be crumbling mentally and physically from apparent frustration and anxiety over their marriage, Tekla seemed simply confused by his behaviour and just wanted him to be normal again. This seemed to absolve her from the comments that the men had made about her somewhat; although Adolf perceived an intellectual difference between them (at one point he commented exasperatedly that she can only play one note, whereas he is aware of nuances and undertones).
In the third, and final part of the play, Adolf left to 'get some air', and Gustav entered the room 'by chance'. After behaving in a convincingly humble and compassionate way, he almost managed to seduce Tekla. He assured her, when she worried aloud, that she was not hearing movements outside the door ("it's just a dog locked in a room"). But after a slight flaw in something he said, she caught onto the fact that he had seen Adolf previously, and it became clear that he was the reason Adolf had behaved in such a strange and tormented way. Gustav transformed, once again, this time very powerfully, into a man overflowing with the venom of years of internalised rage and agony. Tekla then opened the door to find Adolf outside, having heard the whole scene, shivering, ruined, and apparently on the point of death. She took him in her arms, knelt on the floor, and cradled his head, as Gustav said, "she really does love him. Poor woman!"
Some reviewers have commented that the ending is melodramatic; but for me it was a moment of genuine tenderness, all the more potent for the absence of it until then. From the point of Gustav's second transformation, actually, I felt I'd been kicked in the gut: the play had built so steadily and perfectly to this emotional climax. Had there been no one else around me, I probably would've bawled like a baby. The most astonishing thing is that all this was packed into ninety minutes.
I wish I'd been able to see this production when I studied it. I also wish I'd seen
Rosmersholm at the Almeida back in May: I think it might similarly have clarified and brought to life the play text for me in a way that even the closest studying can't quite achieve.
Post a Comment