“Gabriella Opacka-Boccadoro gives a virtuosic performance on violin, beautifully emoting Oliver Vibrans’ score”
The title implies that the focus of “Duet for One” will be on the one protagonist: the once famous violinist, slowly crippled by multiple sclerosis who self-destructively drifts into bitter isolation. In reality, though, both characters are the lead in Tom Kempinski’s affecting two-hander. And it is very much a duel, rather than a duet. A dramatized battle between the psychiatrist and the patient. A clash between the healer and the incurable.
Famous for the film starring Julie Andrews and, more pertinently, for the acclaimed stage play with Juliet Stevenson and Henry Goodman which transferred to the West End from the Almeida Theatre in 2009, Richard Beecham’s revival at the Orange Tree Theatre has made some brave character choices. Traditionally a male role, switching the gender of the therapist to female has subtly altered the dynamics without compromising any of the tension. There is also the introduction of a third character, hitherto merely talked about to excess. The music. The inclusion of a live violinist provides some achingly beautiful moments that help connect the audience to the shadows that plague the mind of musician Stephanie Abrahams (Tara Fitzgerald).
Encouraged by her unseen composer husband, Stephanie has embarked on a course of treatment with Dr. Feldmann (Maureen Beattie). One doesn’t need to have been in therapy to be able to recognise the initial reticence and scepticism. Fitzgerald’s tight-rhythmed delivery of the time-honoured jibes are cloaked in light humour but dark denial. In her position we are intentionally forced to wonder why she keeps returning for another session, but we gradually feel her deep need as the tables turn.
The play is a harsh exploration of purpose, identity and suicidal despair which has the potential to be distressing but which, in Fitzgerald’s and Beattie’s hands is given a very human and relatable touch as we are led through the five stages of grief; although we never quite reach the final acceptance. Throughout the duet (or rather duel) Fitzgerald blocks the passage while Beattie’s final words teasingly suggests that there might be a way through.
Simon Kenny’s slowly revolving set lets us view the narrative from each perspective, sometimes shielding the facial expressions to allow the sharpness of Kempinski’s words reach us unencumbered. A thinly disguised study of cellist Jacqueline du Pre, the play avoids sentimentality by stripping the characters of sympathy – simultaneously pushing us away but drawing us in. At times it seems that each character is too intent on gaining the upper hand. It is only in the second act that we begin to get a sense of the emotion – the deep chasm of loss that Stephanie feels. Although Fitzgerald’s violent outbursts are not always believable, we do still want to breach the veneer of unhappiness as she reveals the crux of the matter: that without her purpose – her music – life is meaningless. Morality also rears its head as Beattie triumphs with a show stealing tirade against Stephanie’s suicidal thoughts.
Gabriella Opacka-Boccadoro gives a virtuosic performance on violin, beautifully emoting Oliver Vibrans’ score. Intended to reflect Stephanie’s states of mind it serves more to guide us from one scene to the next. Perhaps too consistently beautiful for the narrative, it yearns with longing while avoiding the hopelessness and despair. Tender is the music, but hard is the heart. There is no real resolution, or promise of a happy ending, in “Duet for One”. There is no need. The realism, both in the script and in the performances, leaves the choices to us.
“This is true ensemble playing, where no one actor is the lead, but where each actor plays every part as though it were a starring role”
There are many illusions at work in the wonderful Art Of Illusion by Alexis Michalik, and you will enjoy watching this tale of magic tricks unfold. Waleed Akhtar’s lively translation of the French original, together with brilliant ensemble work by the actors under the direction of Tom Jackson Greaves, means the playing time of one hundred minutes flies by. It helps, too, that the production is staged in the more intimate Hampstead Theatre downstairs. It’s a space ideally suited for a play that has to be seen in close up by the audience, to succeed. The flexibility of the space allows a cast of characters from different times and places to constantly change right in front of your eyes — a sort of magic all by itself. And oh yes — let’s not forget the sounds of high stakes soccer matches that are a constant background to the action. On more than one occasion, it’s soccer that literally saves the day for our intrepid magicians in this play.
Soccer and magic tricks? What kind of a story is Michalik telling in The Art Of Illusion? We begin by thinking it’s an unlikely love story between a lover of mathematics who has come to believe in fate, and a petty thief who has stolen her bag. When December decides, on a whim, to return the stolen bag to April (yes, those really are their names) an extraordinary story unfolds. A Watchmaker is presiding over a tale that goes back several hundred years and connects seemingly unconnected people. What starts as a random encounter between two people turns out to be anything but. And as part of the magic of The Art of Illusion, this is also a story about how magic morphs into the tricks of early film making. We get to see how one Georges Méliès uses his knowledge of stage magic to produce film magic. And that’s just one intriguing tale told by this medley of extraordinary characters who begin as traveling conjurers and mutate into inventors of film. The biggest trick of all is watching how Michalik weaves his stories of 1776, 1828, 1871,1984 and 2000 together. Watching The Art Of Illusion is to marvel at the way in which the dramatist, as conjuror of time, mixes and matches all these different periods together while still moving the action forward. It’s ultimately all a gigantic act of illusion, starting with the magic tricks the actors perform to get the audience warmed up, to the way in which they transform from character to character. These character changes, often across gender and time periods, embody the same kind of effortless legerdemain in the acting, as the playwright manifests in his script.
There’s a lot, dramaturgically speaking, packed into The Art Of Illusion. The whole thing succeeds because every part of this production has been so carefully crafted, and fits together so well. Jackson Greaves has done sterling work in the direction and staging of this clever and engaging script, ably assisted by designer Simon Kenny. Matt Haskins and Yvonne Gilbert do great work with the lighting and sound, and there’s an “Illusion Consultant” (Ben Hart) on hand to assist with getting the magic tricks right. But the lion’s share of praise should go to the actors. Rina Fatania, Bettrys Jones, Martin Hyder, Norah Lopez Holden, Brian Martin and Kwaku Mills keep up a relentless pace, yet each character they portray is so clearly defined. This is true ensemble playing, where no one actor is the lead, but where each actor plays every part as though it were a starring role. The closest anyone comes to stealing a scene is probably Rina Fatania, whose portrayal of a mouthy fifteen year old video game player, is a great conclusion to the dazzling tapestry of characters in this play.
The Art Of Illusion is playing now at the Hampstead Theatre Downstairs until January 28th. Don’t miss it.
