December 16, 2010
Travesties starts as it means to go on. As the lights go up we see a library scene, but one even more eccentric than the Bodleian on a bad day. The year is 1917, and we are in Zurich watching Tzara the Dadaist pick words out of a hat and declaim them in a strong Romanian accent - for no clear reason. On another table sits the novelist James Joyce dictating a letter in comic Irish tones, and just across from him a man and a woman are having an excited conversation in Russian. The man is Lenin (excellently played by Peter Green whose blend of terseness and passion suits the role almost as well as does his beard). In all, it's a little bizarre, fairly funny, and not very easy to grasp what's going on.
Stoppard is such a master of quick, playful dialogue that I got the impression of spending three hours in the company of one very clever person rather than witnessing a drama about different characters. But perhaps this suited the story. After all, what we see does depend entirely on the narration of one of the characters - Henry Carr, an official of the British consulate in Zurich, whom we see in old age recalling his meetings with the more famous characters of the piece. Alistair Nunn deftly stepped between the role of the aged Carr and his young counterpart and kept his long monologues rolling with energy. In fact the whole cast produced polished performances: Colin Burnie a wonderfully poised and champagne-fond butler, and Tim Bearder a Tzara with fanatically artistic eyes.
As the play progresses it becomes more and more obvious that Carr's recollections shy away from the truth. They are memories tinted by self importance, geriatric forgetfulness and a tendency to mingle reality with fiction. The intellectual obstacle course that is the script adds to the scope for confusion, and the whole thing has the feel of an extended joke, which occasionally brushes with seriousness long enough to show a Carr struck with terror by recollection of his time in the trenches or to hint at a serious point about the nature of art. But, happily I think, the Oxford Theatre Guild latch onto the humour, do it very well, and deliver a highly entertaining evening while obviously enjoying themselves into the bargain. Highly recommended.
Stoppard is such a master of quick, playful dialogue that I got the impression of spending three hours in the company of one very clever person rather than witnessing a drama about different characters. But perhaps this suited the story. After all, what we see does depend entirely on the narration of one of the characters - Henry Carr, an official of the British consulate in Zurich, whom we see in old age recalling his meetings with the more famous characters of the piece. Alistair Nunn deftly stepped between the role of the aged Carr and his young counterpart and kept his long monologues rolling with energy. In fact the whole cast produced polished performances: Colin Burnie a wonderfully poised and champagne-fond butler, and Tim Bearder a Tzara with fanatically artistic eyes.
As the play progresses it becomes more and more obvious that Carr's recollections shy away from the truth. They are memories tinted by self importance, geriatric forgetfulness and a tendency to mingle reality with fiction. The intellectual obstacle course that is the script adds to the scope for confusion, and the whole thing has the feel of an extended joke, which occasionally brushes with seriousness long enough to show a Carr struck with terror by recollection of his time in the trenches or to hint at a serious point about the nature of art. But, happily I think, the Oxford Theatre Guild latch onto the humour, do it very well, and deliver a highly entertaining evening while obviously enjoying themselves into the bargain. Highly recommended.