Theatre - Johann Hari investigates the latest invasion from planet Hollywood
What the Night Is For is perhaps better known as "The One with That Bird off The X-Files In It". London theatre has seemed celebrity-ed out for at least a year now. Glenn Close was a disappointment in A Streetcar Named Desire at the National, even Nicole Kidman was overrated in The Blue Room at the Donmar, and recently we have been offered the fresh hell of watching various celebrity brats (including Tom Hanks's dire son Colin) make a mockery of This Is Our Youth. It was also not heartening to hear a group of punters approach the box office and demand to know "if Gillian gets her kit off".
Admittedly, Gillian Anderson has a strong track record. She could so easily have been a joke as Federal Agent Dana Scully in The X-Files, a show that always teetered close to needing a laughter track. Yet, somehow, she made her character seem plausible, complex and (most remarkably) real, despite having to play scenes where she was attacked by yetis, slimed on by mutant moths and even inseminated with an alien baby. Her startling performance in the Terence Davies movie The House of Mirth showed us that she was no one-trick wonder, either. But London has been littered with stars who think that because they can act on the screen, they need not bother with irritations like voice training or persistent, hard rehearsal to cut it on the West End stage. So as the lights went up, my heart was in my feet.
This play explores a simple premise that we have all daydreamt about: what if you were to track down that lost flame from years ago? Websites such as friendsreunited.com now make it dangerously easy, and perilously tempting. Melinda (Anderson) and Adam (Roger Allam) had an affair 11 years ago, when they were both committed to other partners. Melinda ("Lindy") was a young poet with two babies, married to a tedious husband who is heir to a furniture business. She was convinced that, for Adam, their affair was just a fling, and she fled without even saying goodbye - but it quickly becomes clear that they have both been obsessed with each other for the past decade. The stilted, awkward conversation of the first ten minutes - as each circles, trying to discover the other's motives for the meeting - quickly gives way to a horribly compelling, recaptured intimacy.
This is play of pure emotion, and it feels very American. The British theatrical tradition since the Angry Young Men has concerned itself primarily with the public sphere. Michael Weller, the author of this play, has talked about how perplexed he felt when he saw David Hare's Skylight, a play that also concerns itself with adulterous lovers reunited after a long separation. "They never talk about themselves! They just talk about politics!" he exclaimed. It's true that Hare's characters are vehicles for social comment. Weller's play is, in contrast, typical of the American theatre since at least Tennessee Williams. It is a photographic negative of our theatre because Weller is concerned exclusively with feelings and not at all with ideas or politics. He has said that this play asks questions such as: "Am I with the right person? Or is my real soulmate still out there, living another life?" It is hard to imagine a British playwright who could (or, indeed, would want to) write about this realm of pure feelings so unaffectedly.
John Caird is, it turns out, the perfect man to explore this text. His award-winning direction of Humble Boy breathed life into an overrated piece of writing, but Caird managed to explore the layers of pain, anguish and hate lying buried in Charlotte Jones's characters so perfectly that the production alone should have secured him the directorship of the RSC. He has both a populist touch and artistic integrity and his taste for private, human plays seems to be perfectly pitched to today's theatre audience.
He also has the rare knack of being even better at directing women than men. After coaxing near-perfect performances from Diana Rigg and Felicity Kendal in Humble Boy, it is hard to believe - with the further evidence of Anderson's performance - that he is not at the very least a hermaphrodite, since his feeling for female roles is so honed.
This is not a meaty or substantial show, but rather a sweet and delicious one. What the Night Is For is ultimately too slight to be great, but it leaves you with the unshakable feeling that, together, Caird and Anderson would be capable of something truly extraordinary.
What the Night Is For is at the Comedy Theatre, London SW1 (020 7369 1731), until 23 February 2003
Sheridan Morley is unwell
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