In some ways Simon Stephens has become
the Edward Bond
de nos jours.
Like Bond, Stephens writes dramas set in uncaring, uncompromising
worlds, whose characters speak in a language at once naturalistic and
yet artificially pared-down and whose uncertain attempts to assert
their own identities sometimes lead to gratuitous and brutal acts of
violence. His plays are usually (in Britain, at any rate) staged in a
similarly spare style, and now and again (as with his
Three Kingdoms a couple of years
ago) he seems more honoured in continental Europe than in his homeland.
Stephens lacks the fierce ideology of Bond, although it is arguable
that a deeper political point is indicated by his setting his latest
play in 1979 and 1997, on the eves of the Thatcher and Blair eras
respectively.
In Stockport (Stephens’ home town), eccentric misfit teenager Cathy
Heyer meets the manipulative John Connolly. The two embark on an affair
which mixes passion, petty crime and psychological abuse. Cathy’s
mother and a family friend (of whose 1930s German-Jewish childhood
nothing at all is made) look on in impotent disapproval; Cathy’s best
friend is drawn into bed with John. When Cathy discovers this, she
embarks on a cold and brutal revenge, culminating in the murder of her
but
not John’s baby daughter
simply to deprive him of a loved one. Eighteen years later Cathy,
having served her time for murder and now living under a new identity,
is tracked down by John’s son from a subsequent marriage, and who
speaks her old language of retribution whilst she seems wiser and/or
perhaps all but untouched by the events.
In the final scene of Sarah Frankcom’s production, young Harry Connolly
is played by Andrew Sheridan who had previously portrayed John, and
Cathy is now played by her former stage mother Julie Hesmondhalgh
(fresh from her auto-euthanasia as Hayley Cropper in Granada’s
Coronation Street). In both roles,
Hesmondhalgh makes Stephens’ words sounds more flowing and organic than
most of her colleagues, but this is a criticism neither of her nor of
them: in earlier scenes, Sheridan and Katie West as young Cathy are
enacting youthful self-consciousness writ large but not unnaturally so.
And as almost always, Stephens – unlike Bond – allows just a photon or
two of hope to penetrate through a slit in the screen of bleakness.
Written for the Financial
Times.