Death of Long Pig
Finborough Theatre, London
Samoa and Tahiti have a big image problem. Often seen as either Pacific paradises or lost islands cut off from the 21st century, they have for years stimulated the European imagination, acting either as Viagra or as an opiate. In this vein, Nigel Planer’s new play, Death of Long Pig, takes a close look at two 1890s European travellers to the South Pacific: novelist Robert Louis Stevenson and artist Paul Gauguin.
First off, we are introduced to Stevenson, the bohemian Scotsman and author of Treasure Island and The Strange Case of
Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Settling on Samoa, in a vain attempt to stave off the ravages of tuberculosis, he lived in a curious ménage with his wife, widowed mother, grown-up stepchildren and obliging natives. When the play begins, we see him practising his own funeral – a ritual that freaks out the native Polynesians.
Although his conflict with his American wife, Fanny, soon degenerates into pointless bickering, Stevenson’s character comes across as both fascinating in its broad humanity and appalling in its intense narcissicism. OK, so he was a writer and terminally ill, but does that really excuse bad behaviour? If the point of preparing for a good death is living a good life, then RLS has some questions to answer.
Still, compared to the French artist Gauguin, he is a miracle of propriety. Living in Tahiti, shacked up with his “wife”, Teha’amana, Gauguin drinks absinthe, shoots up morphine and needs arsenic to treat the wounds on his injured leg. When he mixes a suicide cocktail, it looks as if he’s going to go out with all guns blazing. In suicide, as in life, this guy’s a rebel.
Planer, who as a young actor starred in The Young Ones and The Comic Strip Presents, is not a natural playwright. His foray into history is workmanlike and interesting, but never dramatically compelling. However, I did find the detail of the story fascinating and Planer does distinguish well between the two characters of the tolerant Scot and the ranting Frenchman.
Both are case studies of the European fascination with the exotic: in the liminal space of the South Pacific, both Stevenson and Gauguin are free of the constraints of Western mores and can indulge their personal desires. Although they evince an interest in – and respect for – local religions and customs, both men are fiercely independent spirits on a collision course with normality.
Planer gives their wives plenty of space to voice their dissatisfactions and these female voices give the play its critical edge. Although neither Stevenson nor Gauguin led exemplary lives and neither could they defend these cut-off islands from the onslaught of modernity and globalisation, they did represent them artistically in a provocative and challenging way. Whether the islanders appreciated these European champions is, however, a moot point.
As directed by Alexander Summers, the same cast – led by Sean Murray, Amanda Boxer and Nicole Davies as the artist, mother figure and younger woman – perform in both stories on designer Alex Marker’s evocative set. But despite some spirited acting and the interest of the subject matter, the evening leaves you feeling sad rather than elated.
