Without Blanchett’s presence this would be torture to watch
When We Have Sufficiently Tortured Each Other National’s Dorfman Theatre
She has won Oscars and Golden Globes, has an international fan-base and could command any stage in London. But Hollywood star Cate Blanchett has chosen the National’s smallest space for her first theatrical foray here since appearing as an alienated woman on a bleak odyssey in Botho Strauss’ Gross und Klein in 2012.
The advance buzz that has surrounded this project, however, a modern-day response by playwright Martin Crimp to Samuel Richardson’s trailblazing epistolary novel of 1740, Pamela, has entirely eclipsed the excitement of last time round.
The book caused a scandal in its day with its tale of a 15-year-old serving-girl essentially abducted by her squire master, and seemingly submitting on her own volition to become his wife, having initially repelled his advances.
With warnings issued about “adult themes and violent scenes of a sexual nature” and mad-keen punters queuing for seats from as early as 4am, levels of anticipation were at fever-pitch last night. Was it really the case that blood flows, lesbian kisses are exchanged, coitus is simulated and Blanchett’s character dons a strap-on dildo?
Dear reader, pretty much everything you may have gleaned up to this point is true. Crimp has reworked Pamela for the age of #metoo and internet pornography. He creates a characteristically chilly environment in which the modernday counterpart to Pamela appears to be confined to a garage and forced to engage in role-play with a man (Stephen Dillane), who’s attended by four taciturn flunkeys. The interplay asserts abusive patriarchal power while insinuating a feminist fightback and even victory.
The climactic moment of this two-hour affair does – rub your eyes in disbelief – involve the Australian actress donning a sizeable black dildo, lubricating it, and then crouching down in a suggestively penetrative fashion behind Dillane, who has adopted a blonde wig and submissive position. Just previously she has undergone a laborious simulated rogering in a wedding dress up against the passenger door of a black Audi. This is certainly not for the faint-hearted, or prudish, but what does it all mean?
I have to confess to being alternately gripped, puzzled, bored and nonplussed by When We Have Sufficiently Tortured Each Other (the title directly derives from a line in the novel), which risks cerebral overload even more than it does carnal excess.
Crimp is working here with director Katie Mitchell; their association goes back to a 1999 production of Genet’s The Maids. That play – in which two housemaids engage in sadomasochistic rituals – appears a strong influence, with the pair donning maid costumes. Something of its airless artifice has crept in too.
Do we care what happens? That we do, just, is down in small part to Dillane’s watchable quality of latent fragility and in large part to Blanchett’s remarkable presence. Even when the dialogue sounds flat, or affectless, her eyes dart all kinds of signals: weariness, impatience, apprehension, and knowing inscrutability. It’s an edgy curiosity, then, and a luxury for those who’ve got a ticket. Could we live without it? Sure. And without Blanchett – and her inspiriting commitment to do the unexpected? Not at all.
Until March 2. Returns and day seats only