Tag Archives: Tristram Kenton

The Outsider (L’Étranger) – 5 Stars

Outsider

The Outsider (L’Étranger)

Print Room at the Coronet

Reviewed – 18th September 2018

★★★★★

“A trust in Camus runs through the piece, but Okri is also unafraid to interrogate him”

 

We are going to die, all of us, no matter who we are, no matter what we try. This is true. In the knowledge that our fates our sealed, and given the constant humiliation of living, the only question is why carry on at all, let alone struggle? This is the central problem of absurdism, the strain of existentialism developed by Albert Camus; the conclusion of Meursault – the disconnected protagonist of his most celebrated novel – is that there is no reason. And yet he carries on existing. Roaring with the urgency of the original, Ben Okri’s adaptation of L’Étranger for stage demands that once more we face its shattering questions.

His mother dies, but Meursault cannot recall when, let alone how old she was. He is uninterested in seeing her body, smokes and drinks coffee in the presence of her coffin, and falls asleep at her funeral. For him these facts are as irrelevant as whether or not he even loved her (though, he supposes, he probably did). There is no spite in his heart, only indifference, and incomprehension at the values of others. Though he is casually happy in the arms of his girlfriend (who, he supposes, he doesn’t really love), or watching films, or swimming in the warm seas off the Algerian coast, his inability to engage in society’s fictions condemns him. It condemns him when he doesn’t cry at his mother’s funeral, when he shows no concern at his neighbour beating a woman, when he displays no interest in career or marriage, and ultimately when he kills a man.

To translate such an austere, interior novel to theatre requires a unique intuition into its ideas, and Okri displays nothing less. As a starting point, he samples directly from the original text, allowing Meursault’s monologues to cut right through each scene. Not only do Camus’ words serve as an anchor to the piece, but the manner in which they are used immediately isolates Meursault. The world is made to appear as trivial to us as it does to him, often to the point of hilarity. Okri generates a dream-like environment, beyond which we too would only see him as the outsider.

A trust in Camus runs through the piece, but Okri is also unafraid to interrogate him. On the subject of the murdered man, a nameless Arab (referred to exclusively as “the Arab” in the novel), Okri seems uneasy with Meursault’s -and possibly Camus’- disposal of him as a tool to reaffirm the former’s humanity. In a political climate replete with anti-Islamic sentiment (and given Algeria’s own fractious past), Okri has explicitly expressed the desire to give the murdered man agency. Rather than significantly alter the narrative, however, the man returns as a ghost at Meursault’s trial. In this way Okri extends to him Camus’ universal philosophy rather than – as Meursault later says about himself – excluding him from the proceedings. It is not a rebuttal of Camus but a dialogue, and one that serves to strengthen the piece’s resolve rather than diminish it.

Led by Sam Frenchum’s Meursault, in two hours not a single beat is missed by the cast. Every actor’s performance is a keystone in Camus and Okri’s towering theses. In such an essentially collaborative effort, singling out performances may be a hollow gesture. Nonetheless, it is the furious dialogues of David Carlyle, Tessa Bell-Briggs, and John Barrow in the second act’s courtroom scene that distils the strange logic surrounding Meursault (in spite of his guilt) into a final, terrifying conclusion. Meanwhile Frenchum manages, impressively, to capture both Meursault’s detachment and the strange empathy he evokes; the enormity and the comedy of absurdism both haunt his withdrawn expression. The pace of each scene is erratic -some quick and matter of fact, others lingering past the point of meaning – but Meursault’s calm is constant. The spacious, sparse set, often only lit by a single beam of light seems to reflect his mood and though the piece is full of action, his stillness overwhelms.

As brutal as the core notion of absurdism appears, and as nihilistic – perhaps even as immoral – as Meursault may seem to be, Camus’ final argument is one of breathtaking optimism. The very idea skewers the trivialities of modern existence, summed up by Meursault’s refusal to engage meaningfully with them. This does not mean that the trivialities have no consequences, but only from a position beyond them can a person ask the question, is life worth living? In both L’Étranger and his classic essay The Myth of Sisyphus, Camus concludes that, although our fate may be determined, perhaps even because of it, we are uniquely free to build our own meaning of life. Perhaps then, for the first time, we can really live.

Okri’s adaptation is both a questioning and an answering of this argument, and by returning to it now, he reaffirms my suspicion that in such obviously absurd times, the inherent absurdity of choosing to live becomes all the more important.

Reviewed by Harry True

Photography by Tristram Kenton

 


The Outsider (L’Étranger)

Print Room at the Coronet until 13th October

 

Related
Based on the work of Albert Camus
Sisyphus Distressing | ★★★★ | Blue Elephant Theatre | March 2018

 

Click here to see more of our latest reviews on thespyinthestalls.com

 

 

NELL GWYNN

★★★★

Apollo Theatre

NELL GWYNN

Apollo Theatre

★★★★

‘She can dance and she can sing and she can do the other thing’ …

Gemma Arterton, can indeed do anything!

 

A lot of folk seated in the stalls near me were making comments like “we’ll get hit by the oranges from here” – rest assured, oranges feature very little in Jessica Swale’s clever interpretation of the Nell Gwynn story – in fact I only recall seeing one.

Nell Gwynn is an interesting show – a colourful tale of Nell, the King and a theatrical company of misfits and oddballs. Interspersed with a few ‘of the period’, yet infuriatingly catchy, songs and ditties. Spiced up with a bawdy script with double entendres a plenty, this is a charming show to while away a couple of hours.

A beautiful set and some spectacular costumes (including that hat!) are brought to life by a fantastic company. Gemma Arterton leads and is faultless perfection as Nell (though for me, she will always be Rita O’Grady). Michelle Dotrice, as the doolally dresser and Nell’s confidante, Nancy, steals the second act with some wonderful comedy moments.

Also worthy of a mention are Sasha Waddell who brings mighty laughs through both her roles, David Sturzaker as the flirty King and Peter McGovern as the inept actor in training, Ned. Greg Haiste as Edward, the actor who plays women’s parts, is a delight too and gives Kinky Boot’s Lola, a run for her in money in some of his costumes.

A special shout out to the often overlooked ensemble, a particularly hard working bunch. I’d like to single out Matthew Durkan, he has an amazing stage presence and I’m sure following his West End debut, will go on to an amazing career. Remember you heard it here first!

 

mdruk

Also making her West End debut, was Milly the dog, affectionately known as Oliver Cromwell in the show and proving the old adage of never to work with animals, to be completely false. A star in her own right.

Nell Gwynn has a limited season until the end of April, catch it while you can.

 

image

 

Seen February at The Apollo

Photo Tristram Kenton

Booking until Saturday, 30th April 2016

Click here for tickets and more show info.