Jo Sutherland is left with a bleak picture of society after Simon Stephens' Wastwater at Royal Court Theatre
Simon Stephens’ previous works include Punk Rock, Motortown and Pornography, all fused with a graphic and sometimes violent cynicism and darkness. His new play Wastwater, at Royal Court Theatre, is no exception. As soon as the curtain rises, a claustrophobic, uneasy and yet poignantly intimate atmosphere takes hold and the audience is pulled into the depths of this murky (and yes, metaphoric) lake. To explain the title: Wastwater is the deepest lake in Britain, constantly cast with shadows. Much like the lives of the collection of characters in the play.
We are presented with a series of seemingly disconnected scenes all subtly united by common characters and the theme of ‘stories of flight’ – a notion that often recurs in Stephens’ work. Wastwater explores the idea that we can’t escape the consequences of our actions, and that therefore our past defines our future. Stephens believes that new writing theatre should be “challenging in either form or content or both”. And Wastwater is certainly both.
In the first scene a loving foster parent bids a begrudging farewell to her guilt-ridden surrogate son. The two characters barely move during their touching and heartfelt exchange, and the stillness works. I can’t tear my eyes away.
From here we witness the the seduction of a young art teacher by a somewhat older, sexually corrupt policewoman unfolds before us. It's both uncomfortable and comical, with the added dynamic of a plea for sadomasochistic sex, and a confession of sorts that leaves us all lost for words.
These scene switches are achieved thanks to a remarkably flexible set. It works on an aesthetically pleasing level, and offers the opportunity to openly intrude: in one scene I'm a fly on the fourth wall of a humble home, in another I'm transported to a lavish airport hotel room, and finally to a dull, dank and lifeless warehouse space.
Here, we're confronted by a sense of hopelessness as all the warmth rushes out of the auditorium. A distracting neon light flickers throughout the action as we witness a sinister transaction between an all-powerful younger woman and a much older and nervous man. Laden with ambiguity, the real intention behind this instance of illegal child trafficking is left open to interpretation.
Unfortunately by the final part of the play, the production is waning. The performances feel stale, stagnant and unconvincing. In part this is due to the obscurity of the characters' intentions, but a lot of the dialogue is also lost amid the fast-paced and occasionally garbled delivery. Consequently, by the time I can figure out what's going on, I've lost interest.
Experimental in content and form, Wastwater is certainly creepy – but I’m not entirely convinced it sets a challenge, or contributes towards a conversation, or prompts a thirst for change. The play does say something about Britain today – but it’s a rather bleak picture.
Image: Stephen Cummiskey
Wastwater runs at Royal Court Theatre until 7th May.
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