In plays such as
Constellations and
Incognito, Nick Payne has
brilliantly blended individual personal matters with complex and
abstruse scientific topics. It should come as little surprise, then,
that this brief solo piece (first seen in the Royal Court’s
Big Ideas strand last summer and
now running for a fortnight in the upstairs studio) alternates Payne’s
own testimony with that of the physicist Richard P. Feynman.
The subject is, as the title suggests, dying. And yet it is not.
Opening and closing segments deal with the assisted suicide of a woman
from Milton Keynes, but the intertwining main stories are each about
the death of a loved one: Feynman’s fiancée, Payne’s father. This is
the art of bereavement, not of dying. Payne concludes by asking
explicitly how we might better help the dying to die and quietly
condemns the convention of lying to patients about their prospects –
“We try to operate within a culture of optimism,” says his father’s
consultant absurdly. However, what both he and Feynman (in an account
culled from his book
What Do You
Care What Other People Think?) experience more keenly is the
obligation placed upon them to become complicit in the lies. As with so
much of our behaviour around death, this is really about those who live
on.
This, though, is as convoluted as the content or presentation get.
Payne simply sits on a plastic chair stage centre and tells the two, or
three, stories episode by episode. Changes between segments are
indicated by brief beeps as if from an electrocardiography machine. He
does not act: there is no re-creation of moods, just the basic
accounts. This manner and Payne’s unassuming, bespectacled appearance
recall the similarly low-key strain of writer/director/performer Chris
Goode’s work.
Towards the end of the 45 minutes, Payne recites Feynman’s intimate
letter to his now-deceased wife, written as a way of coming to terms
with her death. This piece is, I think, fulfilling a similar function
for Payne: it is not really part of his theatrical
oeuvre, but it is something he had
to write, and indeed perform himself rather than entrust to anyone
else. It is an act of generosity in some ways, but ultimately we must
all deal with such issues for ourselves, first from one side and then
the other.
Written for the Financial
Times.