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Latest items? Unedited? Fringe Report Uncut
In Camera
Verdict: Hell is other people
A solemn Maitre d' greets at the door. It's a tiny auditorium, the stage a
bare room furnished with impersonal leather chairs. Human shadows rise over
the silhouette of a grille, travelling in an old-fashioned lift.
One by one, the Maitre d' brings in three people. Garcin is an anti-establishment journalist, Inez an embittered postmistress, Estelle a frivolous socialite. They’ve died and gone to hell.
Garcin becomes convinced they are together because the combination of their
personalities will keep them all in perpetual torment. They try to stop this
through an agreed silence, but it's soon broken. Garcin's prophecy begins
to unfold.
An intricate game of attractions, alliances, attacks, retaliations and
switched loyalties culminates in the famous Jean Paul Sartre quote -
Hell is other people.
This hell stems from the characters lacking any innate sense of their own
existence. At time this is relieved, as the characters glimpse earth again
and joyously recover their sense of self when they find that people still
think of them. But it’s brief: they're soon forgotten, and their view of
earth fades away.
Desolate, they seek definition from their hellish companions. But the futility of such a quest is borne out with unrelenting bleakness.
A drawback to this production is the translation. Its fastidiously exact
rendering of idiomatic conversational French clunks in English. Thankfully
Tim Gingell's deft direction overcomes this most of the time, creating a thoughtful and consistently engaging reading.
Sartre's powerful insight into the many ways human beings torture each other, in even the most mundane interactions, is emphasised by the three central performances.
Adrian Johnson portrays Garcin admirably. He doesn't let his likeability as a performer obscure the character’s egotism. Even when sensually distracted
with Estelle his Garcin is narcissistic, as though obsessed with his own
performance in playing up to her coquetry.
Melanie Dresti is unforgettable as Inez. She uses her piercing dark eyes to
project a venomous presence. She portrays Inez as having lived in hell most of her earthly life, muting her own torture by relishing other people's pain. Her Inez lusts for Estelle with the compulsion of a vampire.
Sartre's text suggests Estelle, as a product of social brainwashing, is
habitually artificial. Sarah Dorsett makes her perhaps too deliberately so. However, she compels with the script’s monologues, revealing the emotional ravages beneath Estelle's flighty façade. Mark Montgomerie is charmingly diabolical as the Maitre d'.
Lighting, particularly for the monologue scenes, is evocative and smoothly
executed. Stage design fits Sartre’s spartan requirements exactly.
Cast Credits (alpha order): Sarah Dorsett – Estelle. Melanie Dresti – Inez. Adrian Johnson – Garcin. Mark Montgomerie – Valet (Maitre d’).
Company Credits: Writer - Jean-Paul Sartre. Director - Tim Gingell. Associate Director - Mark Montgomerie. Lighting / Sound - Timothy Holden. Lighting Design - Jason Telford (Nuroptics). Carpentry - Jules Darker. PR - Maura Bright. Company - Shkizmetic Theatre Company. Bronze Sculpture - Matthew O’Donovan. Down Below Me - by the Sick Weirdoes. Lyrics by Sharon Borthwick. Music by Tim Gingell. Used with kind permission of the Sick Weirdoes. The Crack of Doom - by the Tiger Lillies. Used with kind permission of the PRS and Tiger Lillies. Thanks to: Cecilia Darker, Jules Darker, Cleo Sylvestre, Rosemary Branch staff, Adrian Johnson, Mark Montgomerie, Neil Fish, Cloud Cuckoo Land, Barry’s Locks (Southgate Road).
END
(c) Tim Passmore 2004
reviewed 2 July 04 / Rosemary Branch Theatre
Fringe Report (c) Fringe Report 2002-2012
www.fringereport.com
