NEVER LET ME GO at the Rose Theatre
★★★
“Despite being engaging, it is nowhere near as devastating as it should, or could, be.”
Back in 1997, the most famous sheep in the world grabbed our attention. Her name was Dolly. The first large mammal to be successfully cloned. Obviously, speculation about human cloning rapidly erupted. Fortunately, it has never been legalised, so it has always remained at the speculation stage, revolving around the obvious concerns of ‘playing god’, interfering with the natural order of life, designer-babies, the ‘rights’ of clones and the purpose of cloning. Kazuo Ishiguro took these questions by the horns for his 2005 science fiction novel “Never Let Me Go”, which takes place in an alternative reality at the end of the twentieth century in which human cloning is authorised for the elite as a means of providing vital organs for transplant. The clones are brought up in a boarding school, closely monitored to stay healthy, initially unaware of the purpose of their existence and inevitable shortness of life.
It was a captivating and unsettling story, and one that was always going to be difficult to adapt for other media. The film adaptation, although well received, was criticised for sanitising the subject matter and failing to capture the darkness. Suzanne Heathcote’s stage adaptation is aware of its limitations, so wisely shifts its focus to the more human story. Split into three parts, it starts with the characters at their country boarding school, called Hailsham, before they move into a kind of half-way house (the Cottages), and finally onto the third stage where they are sent to fulfil their purpose, and their organs are surgically removed one by one. The clones usually survive a couple of operations, never more than four. There are ways to prolong this pitiful life; either by becoming a ‘carer’ for other clones or by proving that you are in love and the donations are deferred for a few years (however this latter privilege turns out to be merely a rumour).
Kathy (Nell Barlow) is a ‘carer’, and the narrator of the story – in retrospect. We first see her with a new donor – Maximus Evans’ inquisitive Phillip – some years after Hailsham has been closed down. As Kathy reminisces, the past bursts through the doors of Tom Piper’s cleverly crafted set to swirl around the protagonist, pulling her in and out of the story in waves. Christopher Haydon’s direction makes wonderful use of this device giving us a clear indication of where and when we are. Similarly, the cast deftly shift between adulthood and childhood with their mannerisms and diction adapting to the age of their character.
At its heart is a love triangle. Kathy, Tommy (Angus Imrie) and Ruth (Matilda Bailes) are typical kids at first. Tommy and Ruth form an alliance, but the true attraction is between Tommy and Kathy. One that Ruth tries to put a wedge between. Bailes’ opinionated, slightly rebellious Ruth gives way to regret and remorse, while Imrie’s bad-tempered, big-hearted Tommy rages against the injustices, not so much of love, but of fate. Sitting comfortably in the auditorium, it is near impossible for the audience to envisage how it must be to live this kind of life. Unfortunately, the play doesn’t draw us much closer. Despite being engaging, it is nowhere near as devastating as it should, or could, be. At over two hours long there is plenty of opportunity to cut right into the heart of the subject matter, and its emotional fall out. But the incisions are skin deep, and the true ethical issues are glossed over. The second act is more successful. The deceptions hurled onto the young clones are revealed, which shines a mirror up to society’s alleged treatment of minorities and the subject of exploitation. Susan Aderin, as the hardened and pragmatic schoolmistress, sheds light on the warped reasoning behind the false optimism fed to the clones. But again, the horror gets blurred through the long lens of exposition. Although she convinces us that the clones do have souls like the rest of us, the play, as a whole, lacks a real heart or soul.
Like Ishiguro’s original haunting novel, the play is no less relevant. The title comes from a fictional song within the story. We hear pre-recorded snippets of it, sung soulfully by Marisha Wallace, but are never allowed to let it completely wash over us. “Never Let Me Go”, without a true sense of the love, loss, hope, and desire inherent in the title, doesn’t quite engulf us either. However, we are still given plenty to think about, and can enjoy the challenging conversations it inevitably triggers in the bar afterwards.
NEVER LET ME GO at the Rose Theatre then UK Tour continues
Reviewed on 24th September 2024
by Jonathan Evans
Photography by Hugo Glendinning
Previously reviewed at this venue:
SHOOTING HEDDA GABLER | ★★★★ | October 2023
NEVER LET ME GO
NEVER LET ME GO
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