Death And The Maiden

When this intensely powerful piece transferred to the Duke of Yorks Theatre from the Royal Court in 1991, the success of Juliet Stevenson in the punishing central role was almost in danger of outshining the play itself, to the extent that for the duration of her tenure you couldn’t get near the place. That the play continued successfully after her departure, initially with Geraldine James and subsequently Penny Downie (who I saw towards the end of the run) was testament to a piece of taut, gripping and thought-provoking writing. Controversial at the time, it remains equally and unavoidably so today, and it is to the considerable credit of the Chesil Theatre Company that we are currently able to experience its purposely unsettling power afresh.

Ariel Dorfman’s play pulls no punches in its depiction of a former political prisoner who, some years prior to the action of the piece, was forced to endure the unimaginable, and now, due to an almost incidental quirk of fate, is suddenly forced to confront that chilling experience again. After a brief opening reminiscent of that used in last year’s production of Nachtland at the Young Vic, the mood is quickly established, and it is to the credit of all involved with this painstakingly detailed production that the tension increases to the extent that it does. ‘Painstakingly detailed’ can be applied not least to Duncan Ley’s direction of the piece, and the intimacy of the Chesil allows us to appreciate fully the continual subtle nuances in the performances of this masterly trio, every line given its correct weight, every move and gesture significant. It’s not an easy piece, nor does it set out to be, and there are inevitably moments for which you are best left unprepared. (It’s a relief to see that the pre-show “warnings” are kept to a minimum – my own thought is that Theatre SHOULD provoke and surprise, and without undue warning.)

The acting throughout the play is faultless. In the role of Paulina, Jen Hale (whose remarkable Lady Macbeth I still recall) delivers a Tour de Force, in itself sufficient reason for seeing this production; while Danny Olsson is no less remarkable as Gerardo, running an astonishing emotional gamut as the action progresses and the revelations increase. As Dr Miranda, Andrew Jenks’ skilfully-pitched performance ensures that we constantly question ourselves (as does Geraldo) as to the extent of his guilt – or indeed, his innocence. There is a terrifying elegance to the drive of the piece; and the climactic final speech, bearing in mind the troubling times in which we are now forced to live, could – sadly – have been written today, such is its unsettling relevance. I have mentioned terrifying elegance – this endures right to the end, further enhanced by a simple yet chilling directorial touch.

An ambiguity, on some level, will – perhaps must – always remain.

I have tried to avoid any undue “spoilers” here, while at the same time recommending this production wholeheartedly. Stage design, sound and lighting are, unsurprisingly, of the top-level standard we have come to expect from this dynamic company, and enhance an overall compelling theatrical experience. It may not be for the faint-hearted. But it’s a piece that gives us so much to grapple with, to absorb, to debate, to discuss. It’s running through to Saturday 12^th April. Brace yourself. But do see it.