“Priorities. Things that count.” Thus
Kristin, a prominent art historian growing old disgracefully, describes
what she and her extended family have been discussing before the
interval. And, just as Kristin insists on always setting the agenda and
defining the terms of debate, thus playwright Alexi Kaye Campbell tells
us, the audience, what his play is about in so many words.
My opinion of
Apologia has
diminished since I saw its 2009 première. It now seems less subtle and
complex (as evidenced by that direct instruction regarding what to
think), and the addition to Campbell’s
oeuvre of three more plays in the
interim (this was his second to be staged) provides a firmer context
for it. He is a thoughtful and committed writer, but for some reason he
has never yet struck me as successfully lining up all his ducks in a
row. In
Apologia he has
written a corker of a central role – a woman committed to her work and
her political ideals to the point of almost entirely ignoring her
family – and a group of distinctly secondary antagonists – her two
grown-up sons, their girlfriends and a family friend. They exist solely
to modulate the portrait of her, and thus ironically the structure of
the play bears out the accusations levelled at the character.
As you may have gathered, it’s a talky piece; indeed, virtually the
entire second act consists of a series of duologues, and Campbell seems
so fascinated by the dramatic journey (a word Kristin despises) that he
grows rather perfunctory when finally tightening the focus to the
matter of parenting and familial bonds. Director Jamie Lloyd likes to
go for drama, and so doesn’t always rein in his cast’s performances. I
don’t think I’ve ever seen Desmond Barrit enjoy himself so much in a
role as he does as bitch-queen Hugh; Stockard Channing brings a whole
array of discreet chops to playing Kristin (she’s a master of subtly
“cheating front”, always more or less facing the audience), but her
performance may almost be
too
finely calibrated. The laurels go to Joseph Millson, doubling as both
sons; he has numerous opportunities to explode onstage but admirably
restricts himself to one outburst per brother. Both play and production
are less challenging, less meaty than they appear.
Written for the Financial
Times.