crazy sexy absurd

I’ve never fully understood why Martin Esslin decided to add Harold Pinter to his seminal Theatre of the Absurd when he revised it for a second edition in the early 70s.  Granted, Pinter does share many of the characteristics of Beckett and Ionesco and, to a much larger degree, the cinema cut-up aesthetics of Genet.  But while these previous three fall much more under Esslin’s rubric of undermining language, challenging its privileged status in theatre, and question its very efficacy, Pinter is much more the band apart: I’ve always seen his language used less for expression and more as a very, very sexy weapon.  This is all to say I can wrap my biased mind around Esslin’s addition, but I’ve never quite agreed.

Most directors though would be wise to take a cue from Esslin’s writing on early Pinter, as close to every production I’ve seen of Pinter, falls through the trap door of naturalistic ideologies.

Pinter is NOT naturalistic.

When a Pinter piece is directed as such, it tends to fall flat on its face, especially when the pieces shift from creepy to all-out insane.

Nothing epitomizes the misstep quite like the new production of The Homecoming at the Cort Theatre.  The ensemble is one of the best assembled in recent memory, but any chance for a brilliant production is quashed by the direction (I imagine) of Daniel Sullivan.

On the one hand, you have Raul Esparza and Eve Best, who both deserve every award possible for this (F you, Moon for the Misbegotten!).  They ooze the stilted, dangerous, and tense patter of Pinter’s linguistic stings and pauses.  The power plays that Pinter writes to perfection are at their most ominous in their hands.  The interaction between the two of them is electric, exciting, and terrifying all at once.

Then on the other hand there’s the rest of the cast, who somehow wound up in an entirely different play.  Particularly Ian McShane, bless his heart, who is acting his face off, like the other characters who are totally out of place.  The rest of the ensemble played a drâme bourgeois, which really casts the play into absurdity by the end, and not in a good way.  This also leads to an inevitable aura of misogyny toward Best's Ruth, and Pinter does not objectify Ruth; she should be the most devious and empowered of all of them.

When the climax of The Homecoming arrives, it shouldn’t be shocking and unexpected—it should seem the next logical step in an already disturbing Pinter universe.  So despite the fact that I’ve never quite been on par with Esslin, I wish more practitioners took a look simply at his subject matter and asked 'Why?'

Comments

[Tweed]

Dear binehedrine,

Touche, indeed. But lest we forget, this blog is to serve a critical purpose--just look at our mission statement: "To impress the reader with words such as 'epistemological' and 'performative.' To eventually look up what these words even mean."

The OJ is a forum for critical conversations like this one, whereas the balcony of the Cort Theatre (WHILE the performance is in progress) really shouldn't be. That's all I'm trying to say. I didn't realize this would turn into such a, if you'll excuse the heightened academic in me, clusterfuck of a post. Ah well.

But it is a good juxtaposition, don't you think, b?

Best, Tweed

[binehedrine]

Did you really just write an entry complaining about the pretentiousness of some guy's guttural expiration and follow it with a post which uses "drâme bourgeois"?