Old Times: Not the Best of Times

Clive Owen, Eve Best, and Kelly Reilly (Photo: Joan Marcus)

Clive Owen, Eve Best, and Kelly Reilly (Photo: Joan Marcus)

Sorry for my absence, y’all. I’ve been here:

The beauty of packing

Moving day!

This is what 13 hours of shopping looks like.

Thank goodness for large elevators.

Don’t worry; I haven’t gone far! Only about 10 blocks west of my last place, but a new apartment nonetheless. Which means for the past two weeks all I’ve been doing is packing and cleaning and tossing and taping and unpacking and IKEAing and building and burning cash, on repeat it seems. Soon, friends. Soon our home will be livable.

FrownAnyway, because of the move delay, I didn’t get to write about Old Times before it closed last week, but here’s a quick note about the production. You may have already seen my #InstaReview on Instagram (p.s. follow me). Harold Pinter was back on the Broadway in this revival, and I was left feeling the same way I did last time at No Man’s Land: unfulfilled. And to be blunt with you: bored. The same thing happened when I saw The Birthday Party many moons ago during my semester abroad in London.

A two-sentence synopsis: Married couple Deeley and Kate are hosting Anna, an intriguing friend of Kate’s from years before. Together they reminisce and discover unexpected connections among them, all the while trying to maintain the upper hand in the conversation. I didn’t care for the characters in present day, much less their past. There was no forward momentum. Old Times is power play after power play, but I felt like we were in a stalemate the whole time. Each pause was so weighted, and every line meant so much. It’s exhausting having that much subtext, and I love subtext! It’s delicious when a character says one thing and means another; that’s real life. However, here it was tiring, despite the very talented cast. Too much subtext and not enough substance. The design was attractive, but what did it mean? It gave me the impression that we were floating in limbo. The play gave that impression, too. It’s a cat and mouse game, but I didn’t know who was chasing whom. They certainly weren’t chasing my attention.

I’ll be completely honest with you: I don’t know the ultimate reason that Old Times didn’t appeal to me. The common denominator here could be Pinter, end of story. Another part of me wonders if there is still a chance for Pinter and me; if I need exactly the right combination of director, cast, and story. Regardless, Pinter is in the canon for a reason, and I know I enjoyed reading his plays back in school. That love should be able to translate to the stage. But it seems Old Times was not the right time for me.

***
Old Times
Written by Harold Pinter, Directed by Douglas Hodge
American Airlines Theatre, Closed November 29, 2015
Running time: 65 minutes, no intermission

Cast: Clive Owen, Kelly Reilly, and Eve Best

Credits: Set Design: Christine Jones; Costume Design: Constance Hoffman; Lighting Design: Japhy Weideman; Sound Design: Clive Goodwin; Music: Thom Yorke: Hair Design: Amanda Miller; Production Stage Manager: Nevin Hedley

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The Bells

The Bells

Due to popular demand, I give you – in full – The Bells by Sandy and Becca. Dated February 8, 2002, our assignment was to write a “Pinteresque” one-act play for AP English. Brace yourselves, folks – the brilliance may just knock you out of your seat.

The Bells

Room is small, lights are dim. RAINE sitting in armchair, knees drawn up to chin, staring blankly. CECIL brewing coffee in the kitchen.

RAINE

I’m sorry.

CECIL

(Faintly, from other room) Don’t worry about it.

CECIL walks in, sits down across from her.

RAINE

No really, I mean it.

CECIL

It’s fine. I know you do. You did the first time you apologised.

RAINE

I know.

Pause

But it’s only for a night. By tomorrow, everything will be…sorted out.

CECIL

I don’t mind at all. I’ve already told you, feel free to stay…as long as you wish.

RAINE

No.

Pause

My mother’s coming to pick me up, actually.

CECIL

It’s really–

RAINE

I’ll be gone by midday.

Silence

CECIL

How was your flight?

RAINE

Uneventful.

CECIL

And your trip?

RAINE

Wonderful. I wish I could have stayed longer. Incredible place, very pleasant people.

CECIL

Australia, right?

RAINE

New Zealand.

Pause

CECIL

Did you change your hair?

RAINE

What?

CECIL

Your hair– is it different?

RAINE

No.

CECIL

You seem different. Are you sure?

RAINE

Yes…I did…nothing to my hair.

Pause

CECIL

Has it been a year?

RAINE

I think so.

CECIL

It didn’t feel like it.

RAINE

Hmm?

CECIL

A whole year. Felt nothing like it.

RAINE

A year is a long time.

CECIL

I don’t think so.

RAINE

You don’t?

CECIL

No. Not much happens in just one year. Nothing really changes, right?

RAINE

No…I suppose not.

Silence

CECIL

I remember you…at the gate. It was raining that day. We had an awful time with your luggage, it seems amusing now, but it was frustrating at the time. We dropped one of your bags and it tumbled down a flight of stairs, and one of the zippers snapped and a whole section of the bag burst open; your things went flying everywhere. There weren’t many people in the terminal that day, but a good crowd did stop to watch, and I simply stood there, dumbfounded. You were incredibly upset.

RAINE

I don’t remember that.

CECIL

Well, I do. You were absolutely seething. You were so upset. You couldn’t wait to board the plane and leave “this bloody God-forsaken hell-hole of a country,” as you so colorfully expressed it.

RAINE

(Quietly) I remember that.

CECIL

What?

RAINE

What?

CECIL

You said something, didn’t you?

RAINE

No…nothing.

Silence

CECIL

I missed you.

Pause

RAINE

It’s good to be back.

Silence

CECIL

I think the coffee’s ready.

CECIL stands and goes to the kitchen. Dialogue continues.

I miss…the Garden.

RAINE

Hmm?

CECIL

The Garden. I was thinking about it just the other day.

RAINE

Were you?

CECIL

Yes. I want to go back there.

He comes back to the room and hands RAINE coffee

There you are. Milk and sugar.

RAINE

I don’t take my coffee like that.

CECIL

What? Since when?

RAINE

Always.

Long pause.

CECIL

I want to…see it again.

RAINE

What?

CECIL

The Glasshouse. At the Garden.

RAINE

Oh.

Pause

You know, there were many.

CECIL

Yes, yes. You know what I mean, though.

RAINE

We saw all of them.

CECIL

Yes, but, you know.

Pause

The courtyards were lovely.

RAINE

Yes.

CECIL

They were my favourite. The light was so pleasing, and calm, reflected off the glass. I remember the afternoons we would spend there. I enjoyed just sitting inside and watching the sun come through the windows. It was beautiful.

Pause 

RAINE

I preferred being outdoors.

CECIL

Oh?

RAINE

On the lawns, in fair weather, yes. I loved lying there, in the cool breeze.

Pause

Listening to the bells.

CECIL

What bells?

RAINE

The churchbells.

CECIL

I never heard them.

RAINE

I did.

Pause

CECIL

As I recall, there wasn’t a church anywhere near there.

RAINE

Yes, there was one.

CECIL

Was there?

RAINE

Yes, on Trumpington.

Pause

CECIL

Well, I still don’t remember ever hearing bells.

Pause

It was…lovely there, wasn’t it?

RAINE

Mmmnn.

CECIL

We were younger then.

RAINE

Yes, we were.

Silence

CECIL

I really have missed you.

RAINE

I know.

Long Pause

RAINE

Cecil, I did…

CECIL

I know.

RAINE

Yes.

Pause

A long time ago.

She stands. They freeze, looking at each other. Lights slowly fade to a blackout.


No Man’s Land

No Man's Land

I try so hard with Harold Pinter. I loved studying him in school. I even wrote a “Pinteresque” one-act with my friend Sandy entitled The Bells for a class during senior year of high school (for a brief excerpt, see the end of this review). Pinter’s writing can be so funny and thought-provoking, but when I see productions, I don’t end up being as riveted as I had hoped. I understand his significance and place in theatre history, but the plays simply don’t do anything for my soul. I want to stress that this is not to say No Man’s Land is not a good production; it’s just not my taste. So please don’t let this review stop you from going to see it. The show has received rave reviews and rightly so. I think I’m just realizing that while I may appreciate Pinter, I don’t necessarily enjoy his plays.

No Man’s Land might be the one to see though, especially when you’ve got A-list actors like Ian McKellen and Sir Patrick Stewart sharing the stage. It’s pretty grand being in the same room with both of them. Their presence alone is effective. They can hold a room with no words at all, and the cast is nicely rounded out by the younger fellows, Billy Crudup and Shuler Hensley. But don’t expect to go, sit back, and let them do all the work – Pinter expects you to pay attention. There is so much subtext and double-meaning and subtlety to sift through in his language it can take up to 15 seconds to catch on to the fact that a joke was just made.

This production is currently playing at the Cort Theatre in rep with Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot. The similarities between the plays are clear: there is a sense of isolation for these characters and feeling trapped in both pieces. And the audience must work hard to understand the given circumstances. In No Man’s Land, we wonder what these men’s relationships are. Where are we? Why are we here? What should we take away from this experience? Whatever you do, don’t expect clear answers. You might finish Act One with an idea about who these folks are and their relationship to each other, but then Act Two turns any semblance of an idea you once had on its head. All of a sudden you have to adapt to entirely new information. And then, for me anyway, the “plot” basically falls off any kind of trackable course. You can try your best to make it make sense, searching for linear storylines and/or relationships, but I think you’ll just end up more confused. As director Sean Mathias explains, “Pinter isn’t saying what he necessarily means or meaning what you might like to believe. Like Godot, No Man’s Land is a game of memory, of time elapsed and elapsing; dealing with things abstracted, ideas and not realities.” 

If you’re interested in seeing iconic actors and an iconic playwright then definitely check it out, or if you’d prefer, you can wait for Godot with me. Personally, I am more excited for Beckett’s classic, although my younger self would never have believed that statement, given that the first time I saw the play I was so angry with how much time I’d wasted waiting for this jack-ass Godot. But – that was before I studied the play with the brilliant Dr. Coppa at Muhlenberg College. You know, perhaps that’s what I need to fully understand and enjoy Pinter’s work, too. I just need to go back to class. 

Update 4/26/16: This production is transferring to London this summer. You can find more information here.


No Man’s Land
Written by Harold Pinter, Directed by Sean Mathias
Cort Theatre through March 30th
Photo Credit: Joan Marcus
Pictured: Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart


And now, what you’ve all been waiting for…an (incredibly brief) excerpt from The Bells:

Cecil:   Did you change your hair?
Raine:  What?
Cecil:   Your hair- is it different?
Raine:  No.
Cecil:   You seem different. Are you sure?
Raine:  Yes…I did…nothing to my hair.

Pause.