★★★

“there is a lightness to this interpretation, and a guarded feel that at times shields its essence”

Rather than her novels, Simone de Beauvoir’s most enduring contribution to literature are her memoirs. It is no surprise, therefore, that the novelist, philosopher and feminist activist’s works of fiction also contain strong elements of autobiography. Particularly her early novella, “The Inseparables”, which describes her relationship with her classmate – Elizabeth Lacoin. Also known as ‘Zaza’, she crops up in other novels in disguised form, so it is evident that she had a lasting impact on de Beauvoir’s life. “The Inseparables” was never published during her lifetime. Jean Paul Sartre disapproved of it, and it was deemed ‘too intimate’ at the time. There has been much conjecture since as to whether they were ‘just friends’. There is no evidence of a physical relationship, but it is hard to deny that there was an attraction and erotic tension between the two of them.

Grace Joy Howarth’s stage adaptation is a faithful recreation of the adolescent relationship, although it does little to suggest why it was considered too provocative for publication in the nineteen-fifties. Set during, and just after, the first world war in France, it kicks off with the first encounter between schoolgirl Sylvie Lapage and new pupil, Andrée Gaillard. Sylvie had previously prayed for an end to the war, but the answer arrives in the form of this beguiling new classmate. Lara Manela captures Andrée’s playful tone, and Ayesha Ostler, as Sylvie is suitably captivated. Both portray the wide-eyed wonder of nine-year-olds without seeming childish. The subtle mannerisms illustrate the precociousness, but neither is afraid to wallow in youthful exuberance.

Sylvie (the fictional de Beauvoir) is bored and intellectually lonely, so meeting this clever, irreverent girl changes her life. Andrée is physically confident and has a talent for literature and music. It is easy to see why Sylvie would be attracted, and likewise Andrée’s fascination with Sylvie’s vulnerability that Ostler conveys so convincingly. However, beyond this, the chemistry is somewhat lacking, barely penetrating the intellectual veneer. Sylvie talks as much to the audience as to Andrée, which is a neat device that director Anastasia Bunce uses to good effect, but the writing leaves little room for the underlying eroticism and tension. The scenes are short and sharp, sometimes leaving the two, multi-rolling supporting cast – Caroline Trowbridge and Alexandre Costet-Barmada – breathless from their rebounding entrances and exits.

The second act finds the girls on the cusp of adulthood, Andrée now betrothed to Pascal Blondel (a slightly restrained Costet-Barmada). The tables have turned, and Sylvie is supposed to be the more subversive influence. The play never really gets to grips with the rebelliousness, and we are distanced further from the knowledge that these characters are representations of historically significant individuals. We are steered towards some poignancy in the final scenes, but the sense of inseparableness is never fully realised by Ostler and Manela. When Sylvie declares of Andrée that “life without her would be death”, the words aren’t quite supported by the emotion.

Abraham Walking-Lea’s lighting evokes the setting, reinforced by Jessica Brauner’s more literal video backdrops. Metaphorical flourishes are thrown in by Bunce, sometimes illuminating (the symbolic significance of Andrée’s violin); at other times confusing (the scattering of roses to depict an act of self-harm). But overall, there is a lightness to this interpretation, and a guarded feel that at times shields its essence. With its engaging central performances, it glides safely through the pivotal episodes of the novel. The story calls for a less gentle ride though. With more passion. The original question of whether they were ‘just friends’ is left unaddressed and long forgotten. But we do get a good feel of the camaraderie, and mutual regard, even if we are not quite convinced that they are inseparable.

THE PASSENGER

Finborough Theatre

★★★★

“a beautifully directed production that recreates the dark moodiness of the 1930s”

The Passenger, adapted by Nadya Menuhin from Ulrich Alexander Boschwitz’s novel Der Reisende, has just opened at the Finborough Theatre. It’s a story set in Germany just after the Kristallnacht in 1938. The protagonist, a successful Jewish businessman, is attempting to find a way out of Nazi Germany. This tense, nail biting drama, directed by Tim Supple, begins like a thriller, and takes off like one of the express trains our leading man is always boarding.

The novel’s author was drawing on his own experiences of escaping Nazi Germany in the 1930s. The host of memorable characters that emerge onto the tiny stage at the Finborough Theatre have the ring of authenticity. We follow Otto Silbermann’s journey from Berlin, where he is forced to sell his apartment for pennies on the dollar to a German friend. Then he signs over his business—his life’s work—to a non-Jewish partner in order to protect it. Silbermann knows Gustav is untrustworthy and has a gambling habit, but at this late stage in Hitler’s takeover, he simply has no choice. Through a series of misadventures, and failure to obtain an exit visa, Silbermann finds himself in continual transit through Germany’s cities, already in the throes of political conflict. He meets many different characters and becomes involved in their stories, despite trying to melt anonymously into the background. His attempts to find a way out of Germany, while carrying a large sum of money in his briefcase, grow ever more desperate. Menuhin’s dramatization focuses on themes of love and betrayal in The Passenger, even if the love story in this play is a man’s bewildered struggle against fascists that are taking over the land he loves and fought for in the First World War. Silbermann is married to a Christian, considers himself thoroughly German, yet is betrayed by his country, his friends and business partners, simply because he is a Jew.

The Passenger is a beautifully directed production that recreates the dark moodiness of the 1930s that we remember from films like The Third Man. Tim Supple keeps the company continually on the move around and about a simple square. This square, lined with seating, becomes train carriages, waiting rooms, and any number of spaces that Otto Silbermann encounters in his travels. As the audience, we’re right in the middle of the action as well, as the actors, dressed in period coats and hats, make speedy entrances and exits in front of us. (Set and costume design by Hannah Schmidt.) All this movement makes for a brisk beginning of the play. The atmosphere of the set design is powerfully enhanced by Joseph Alford’s sound design. It’s easy to convince ourselves that we are there in 1930s train stations. Mattis Larsen’s lighting is tightly focused on the action, giving us the sense of constant motion in a space much larger than the one we are actually seated in. The actors deserve credit for managing the precise choreography that ensures they never collide with one another, even while managing a host of complicated actions, including dressing the leading man.

Robert Neumark Jones convinces as Otto Silbermann, and he is accompanied by an equally talented ensemble on his travels. Ben Fox plays his swindling business partner Gustav with just the right amount of bluster. Eric MacLennan is an overly hearty chess playing SA man, and Dan Milne switches between sympathetic characters to sinister supporters of Nazism in the blink of an eye. Kelly Price plays all the female roles with sympathy, and glamour, when required. Menuhin’s script powers up like a thriller, all short, sharp scenes as Silbermann’s story gets underway. It does seem overly long at ninety minutes of playing time, but that might be because the action slows midway through. The story, like Silbermann, struggles to find its earlier pace as it drifts aimlessly from one destination to another. Once Silbermann has failed to escape from Germany, what is he doing, other than trying to keep out of the clutches of the Nazis? A more sharply defined goal in the second half might help our traveller reach his ultimate destination, even if it is a less than hopeful one.

The Finborough Theatre continues its well earned reputation for producing thoughtful scripts with this play. The Passenger certainly feels like it could eventually make the transition to a bigger stage, and a larger audience. It’s a timely period piece that reminds us, chillingly, that the past is never very far away.

THE INSEPERABLES

Finborough Theatre

★★★

“there is a lightness to this interpretation, and a guarded feel that at times shields its essence”

THE INSEPERABLES

Finborough Theatre

Reviewed on 17th April 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by A.J. Halsey and Melanie Silva

Previously reviewed at this venue:

THE INSEPERABLES

THE INSEPERABLES

THE INSEPERABLES

THE PASSENGER

Finborough Theatre

★★★★

“a beautifully directed production that recreates the dark moodiness of the 1930s”

THE PASSENGER

Finborough Theatre

Reviewed on 13th February 2025

by Dominica Plummer

Photography by Steve Gregson

Previously reviewed at this venue:

HE PASSENGER

THE PASSENGER

THE PASSENGER