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Fantastically
flat - that's how I felt, leaving Peter Hall's muted Betrayal, at
Bath's Theatre Royal.
This
rendition of Pinter's highly uncomfortable, sexy, nasty, awkward
and chronologically balance-tipping play was fantastic, because
it was so flat.
It's
all about an affair.
Emma
is married to Robert.
Emma
falls for Robert's best friend, and best man, Jerry.
The
lovers take a flat, the lies feed off one another.
Who
knows what, revelations and counter revelations blather about in
a relentless dialogue of mundanities hiding far deeper-reaching
tensions.
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| Hugo
Speer's Robert (left) is betrayed but is ultimately "measured
and censured by the play's austerity" |
Pinter's
work says so much while saying pretty much nothing at all.
And
this production levels all those humming discomforts to a wasteland
of uncomfortable sadness.
Not
too much passion, not too much anger, not too much disappointment.
Just
a bad taste in the mouth.
Things
start at the finish, well past the end of the affair, Emma and Jerry
struggle to remember the highs and the lows in a pub.
And
as the narrative stretches backwards into history, and we see just
how their relationship developed as it un-develops before our eyes,
it leaves us feeling a little despairing, a little titillated, a
little bored, a lot frustrated.
Why
cant humans manage to foster and nurture sincere relationships?
Are
we all this bad at it?
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Aden
Gillett's Jerry is "reluctantly amorous" |
Aden
Gillett's Jerry is a reluctantly amorous, blokeish little menace.
I don't
believe he cares for Robert.
I don't
believe he loves Emma all that much.
I want
more evidence of his affection, and I think that's what I'm supposed
to feel.
Robert,
(Hugo Speer); well he's betrayed, he shouts a little, he postures,
but ultimately he's measured and censured by the play's austerity.
Emma
I wish had been more passionate.
More
changed, more unravelled as the narrative reaches back to her youthful
flirtatiousness.
So
much scope for Janie Dee to create a woman both undone and made.
A missed
opportunity.
And
the set is a measured madness - unused cast members reclining, piled-up
properties seeming to wait their turn, street signs shoved in for
good measure.
A visual
calamity agreeing with the mess our three protagonists have woven
for themselves.
We
leave the theatre at 9 o'clock, no interval, and we're arguing.
What
should man be to woman?
What
should woman be to man?
Sending
us out onto the streets of Bath and questioning these fundamentals,
well that's no mean feat.
It's
chilling, and it's insipid all at the same time.
Who
cares?
We
all should.
>>>
Betrayal runs at the Theatre
Royal Bath until 8 August
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