Leaving
Orange Tree, Richmond
Rain Man
Apollo Theatre, London
FEW playwrights can have had a better excuse for not finishing a play than Vaclav Havel. In 1989, the Czech dissident writer was working on a play about a leader who lost power when the demands of the real world distracted him. In the aftermath of the fall of the Berlin Wall and the Velvet Revolution, he was made president of his country, so he had a lot on his mind. Now, after standing down from this job, he’s had time to go back to his play. Leaving, Havel’s first new play for 19 years, premiered in the Czech Republic earlier this year and has now been staged here by the ever-enterprising Sam Walters at the Orange Tree theatre. Not surprisingly, it tells the story of a leader who has lost power. Here named Vilem Rieger, this ex-chancellor is faced with giving up his luxury villa, which belongs to the state. His political rival, Patrick Klein, offers him a deal: support me in public and you can keep the villa.
Although Havel originally conceived the play as one about the generation that left office after the Soviet invasion crushed the Prague Spring in 1968, Leaving is now an unmistakably contemporary play. Its vision of a rampant capitalist economy, weasel words from politicians and the collapse of cultural standards will be familiar to anyone who has travelled in eastern Europe. Come to think of it, it’ll also be familiar to anyone who’s stayed at home.
When Klein outlines his plans to redevelop the villa, which include a shopping mall and a sex club, it’s quite clear that Havel is attacking the effects of a market economy on Czech society. At the same time, this is a highly literary play, with echoes of Shakespeare’s King Lear and shades of Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard. Since both plays are about the loss of power, this is perfectly apt.
Leaving is also a playful piece about theatre itself and features the Voice of the Author, which interrupts the action to comment on the artificiality of stage conventions. In Sam Walters’ vigorous production, the voice is that of Havel himself. What the veteran playwright and politician seems to be saying is that there are limits to what you can do with power and limits to what you can show on stage.
At the same time, Leaving is a lively romp which connects well with the tradition of absurdism and surrealism in Czech theatre. In the second half, as Rieger suffers something of a breakdown, the play flips into more and more absurd situations. Suddenly, a naked streaker runs across the set; equally suddenly, the cast break into a disco dance to an electronic version of Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy”.
While it might be hard for British audiences, brought up on naturalism, to warm to these adsurdist elements in the play, the overall message is quite clear. Politicians hang onto to power because it is addictive. Despite this, they achieve much less than they say they will. Talking is easy – and Havel satirically makes his characters talk in political clichés –but delivering on your promises is difficult. Now where have we heard that before?
Aleks Sierz
IN THE programme notes of Terry Johnson’s fast-paced production of Rain Man, Jane Asher, president of the National Autistic Society writes: “Autism is a serious, lifelong and disabling condition, affecting in every way how someone communicates with, and relates to, the world around them.”
This clearly comes through in Dan Gordon’s updated adaptation of Barry Morrow’s story which was made into an award-winning 1988 film starring Dustin Hoffman and Tom Cruise. Here, Adam Godley plays the Hoffman character of Raymond, the autistic savant who has been in an institution for more than 20 years.
His younger brother Charlie’s (Josh Hartnett) world is on the brink of collapse. Not only is his business failing, but his distant and wealthy father has died and left him nothing but a rose bush and a vintage Buick. Charlie discovers that the whole $12 million fortune has been left to Raymond – the autistic brother he never knew he had who can memorise the phone book, but can’t put its contents to use as he has no friends to call – and abducts him from the care home.
And, so begins a journey between the totally different long-lost siblings: one who lives by routine and the other who is a chancer. There is no attempt to stage the road movie aspects of the film, which took in Cincinnati, Los Angeles and Las Vegas, but they are not missed. Instead Jonathan Fensom uses sliding sparingly furnished sets which contain the action and show the emotional journey the brothers make.
To their credit, the leading actors ensure that the sterling performances of Hoffman and Cruise do not linger too long in the memory. Godley gives the superior performance – it is moving and intriguing to watch him absorbed in television, rather than developing proper relationships.
And in the curtain call, Hollywood actor Hartnett looked as though he relished making his debut stage performance, but still his inexperience showed throughout the show.
Sharon Garfinkel
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