FAREWELL MR HAFFMANN

Park Theatre

★★★★

“Tension and relief are hallmarks of this production as director Oscar Toeman steers us through the shifting moods with slick clarity”

There is a recurring line in Jean-Phillipe Daguerre’s play, “Farewell Mister Haffmann”, that is reprised by nearly all the characters at some point. ‘Courage is stronger than fear’. The quotation could have come from the hand of Mark Twain, Martin Luther King or Nelson Mandela. In some paraphrased version it has probably been cited by many of our respected world leaders and philosophers. It carries the danger of becoming a glib, self-help-manual style platitude, but in the context of this play (translated by Jeremy Sams) it is a crucial motif. Sometimes delivered comically, but more often with poignancy; it exemplifies the fearless way in which Daguerre tackles his subject matter – turning a global narrative into an intimate, human story that is funny – almost farcical. But don’t be complacent. It can suddenly turn on you with the unpredictability of a dangerous dog.

Inspired by Daguerre’s great-grandparents who hid Polish Jews from the Nazis, it is set in Paris over two years from May 1942. Joseph Haffmann (Alex Waldmann), having sent his wife and children to Geneva, decides to hand over his jewellery shop to his loyal, hardworking, non-Jewish assistant, Pierre Vigneau (Michael Fox). It comes with a condition, however. Pierre and his wife Isabelle (Jennifer Kirby) must agree to move into Joseph’s house and hide him in the cellar until normality is resumed. A further twist has Pierre lay down his own condition. His marriage is childless. Unable to get his wife pregnant, he asks Joseph to do the honours as his side of the bargain.

It is all very matter of fact. The scenes flash by in a series of short bursts. Patently, Isabelle is initially reluctant of the proposition made by her husband on her behalf. Less obviously, Pierre is modestly reticent to take over the business. The conversations are awkward and wrought with moral dilemmas. The decisions are made during the semi-dark scene transitions, so we see the causes and the consequences. Kirby is marvellous as Isabelle, presenting the fragile façade that all is well, but letting us know that it will shatter at any moment. Fox’s Pierre, nervous yet jovial at first, slips into angst and jealousy. Whilst his wife does the ‘deed’ with Haffmann, he goes out tap dancing; a routine that he uses to distract himself from what’s going on in the cellar. As the months go by, the dance steps acquire more and more freneticism. All three performances remarkably show the unravelling nature of each personality as the stakes are raised.

It is a jagged little piece. Not every issue is followed through successfully, but the character arcs are well formed. This feels very much like a three hander. Until art-loving, Nazi ambassador Otto Abetz (Nigel Harman) arrives at the eleventh hour. His presence has already been felt and has been a major source of contention between the others so far. Everything changes when Otto arrives for dinner, along with his loose-tongued wife, Suzanne (Jemima Rooper). A dinner served with huge side orders of tension, broken only by Suzanne’s coarse and tactless interjections. Rooper is a sheer delight with her precise comic timing and delivery. Harman, however, keeps her in check with a performance that chills. We teeter between wanting to laugh or letting our jaws drop to the floor in shock. The stillness of Harman’s portrayal conceals a simmering and dangerous mind.

The shift in tone works remarkably well as we are caught as much off guard as the characters within the play. Tension and relief are hallmarks of this production as director Oscar Toeman steers us through the shifting moods with slick clarity; while Asaf Zohar’s sound and Christopher Nairne’s lighting slice the action into glorious bit-sized vignettes. It is a unique portrayal of a much-explored piece of history, made all the more pertinent and unsettling by its light-hearted intimacy. A hasty epilogue slightly dampens the overall effect, but is arguably necessary to cement where Daguerre’s – and our – sympathies lie. We can only imagine the choices people had to make at such a perilous time in history. “Farewell Mister Haffmann” fires our imaginations brilliantly and powerfully. Refreshingly short and sharp but full of savage twists, it is shockingly funny.