Right now it's Vaclav Havel season at the Orange Tree Theatre in Richmond. That means they're showing five plays by the prolific playwright who was both the last President of Czechoslovakia and the first of the Czech Republic. Drawing all the headlines is Leaving, Havel's first play for over eighteen years, but I'm here tonight to see a double-header comprising two shorter works, Private View and Protest.
First up: Protest. This is a neat carefully constructed little piece that consist
s simply of a meeting between middle-aged pseudo-liberal writer Stanek (Jonathan Guy Lewis in very '70s cardigan, suede loafers and 'tache) and younger political dissident Vanek (a very earnest Christopher Naylor). Stanek is attempting to secure the release from prison of a pop singer with whose baby Stanek's daughter Annie is pregnant. Believing his behind-the-scenes appeals to have failed, he has summoned Vanek (himself recently released from prison) to ask him to start a petition.
Stanek's own verbosity and Vanek's tight-lipped near-silence lead the former to talk at some length about the state of the country and the need for those such as they to undertake decisive political action. He is in something of a pickle then when Vanek produces exactly the kind of petition that Stanek seeks, already bearing 50 signatures. Suddenly Stanek realises what he stands to lose by putting his name to such a public document, and so begins a period of fascinating logical debate, where Stanek attempts to justify his self-interested reticence.
In a country with 'selfishness, corruption, fear everywhere', the relationship between the personal and the public becomes increasingly problematic, and logic is spun round and round until it becomes dizzy and sick. The audience are made all too aware of the double-bind of the hypothetical signature: for Stanek, to sign is both to regain self-respect and to be humiliated in front of Vanek. Not to sign is to submit to tyranny, but perversely, to remain free.
A telephone call wraps up the practicalities of the problem by neatly flipping logic on its head (yet again). Suddenly Stanek is the power for good and Vanek the eager young over-reacher. One is reminded of TS Eliot's Murder in the Cathedral and Becket's immortal lines:
To do the right deed for the wrong reason.
Protest is a moral tangle of a play, and one that is ultimately impossible to fully unravel. Emotionally this production is perhaps a little flat, but it is nonetheless funny, intellectually complex, and hugely fascinating.
After the interval comes Private View, in which smug marrieds Michael (Stuart Fox in plum-coloured flares, waistcoat and ethnic neckla
ce) and a madder-than-Margot Leadbetter Vera (a fantastic Carolyn Backhouse) give a 'private view' of their newly decorated home to the taciturn Vanek (this time played by Mike Sengelow).
Their self-satisfaction, painful attempts to be 'hip', weird food and horrible taste in interior design are pretty hilarious: there's a Turkish scimitar on the wall, a medieval Madonna in a niche, and even an old confessional in one corner – 'it's baroque, man,' Michael proudly declares.
There's a running motif throughout Private View that makes it almost more like a comedy sketch than a play:
Michael (to Vanek): We've only got your best interests at heart.
Vera: We're your best friends.
Michael: Shall I put the fire on?
Vanek: Not for me.
Vera: Shall I put some music on? Michael's just bought these new records from Switzerland.
Vanek: Maybe later.
Then a hideous clock on the wall makes a loud mechanical whirring noise and plays a short piece of piped music. They all fall momentarily silent.
Eventually, Vanek rises to leave, whereupon Michael and Vera completely lose their veneer of self-congratulatory self-sufficiency. 'Who do you think we did all this for?' Michael screams. 'What are we going to do when you go?' Vera howls. Vanek sits back down. Michael puts a record on.
Private View is genuinely very funny. It's a pitch-perfect satire of middle-class ridiculousness and the performances are fantastic. However, after the twisting brilliance of Protest it feels a little linear. Perhaps they might have worked better the other way around.
Photo credits: Robert Day
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