The Birthday Party
Theatre Royal Bath, until 31 August
Words by Emma Clegg
Meg: I was the belle of the ball.
Petey: Were you?
Meg: Oh yes. They all said I was.
Petey: I bet you were, too.
Meg: Oh, it’s true. I was.
Pause
I know I was. (Pinter, 87)
Harold Pinter’s plays are known for their silences and pauses. These moments within his dialogue have been described as the bridges through which people reach out to others, because they contain more information than the descriptive use of words.
The Birthday Party was Pinter’s first full-length play and, despite flopping on its first release in 1958, it soon after received an unexpectedly glowing review, then establishing itself as one the classics of the modern stage. The reason for its flop, one can safely assume, was because of its challenging format – unexplanatory and unresolved, full of menace, minimalism, repeating patterns of discourse, and those significant pauses – which later became known as ‘Pinteresque’.
The play is set in a shabby seaside boarding house owned by Meg (Jane Horrocks) and Petey Boles (Nicholas Tennant). The couple have a lodger, Stanley (Sam Swainsbury), staying with them, who is severely disconcerted when two unexpected visitors arrive. A birthday party is held for Stanley, involving a balloon, a drum and a fair bit of whiskey, but no one appears to have a good time and it turns into a nightmare.
What we do know is that Stanley is a piano player and he has been living with the Boles for a year. Beyond that we are faced with constant contradictions in the dialogue, which cast doubt even on whether it is actually Stanley’s birthday at all. We see that he is failing to deal with reality by not leaving the house and getting suddenly and violently angry, but these are the symptoms of a life experience that Pinter’s audience can only guess at. Meg and Petey’s hold on reality is also shaky, with Meg drawing comfort from her cleaning and domestic routines where the serving of cornflakes becomes an essential part of her day, even when there are no cornflakes.
Jane Horrocks as Meg creates a powerful evocation of a character enclosed in a protective shell, with her drab pastel clothes, baggy ankled stockings, post-war hairstyle and entirely milk-chocolate coloured living room, and a life that seems without meaning. She has built herself up a routine with her husband and with Stanley that makes her feel validated. Horrocks paints a highly charged yet vulnerable picture of Meg whose over-adoring and obsessive relationship with Stanley suggests that he is maybe a longed-for replacement son for the childless couple. Her needy (and unwelcome) hopes for Stanley (to engage with the world) are delivered in a bright, upbeat manner, a mask that keeps her sane even through Stanley’s surly and angry responses.
The cast of six – under the helm of Olivier Award-winning director director Richard Jones – create a dynamic momentum on stage. Sam Swainsbury as Stanley captures all the frustration and pain of a character in torment. The unexpected visitors – John Marquez as Goldberg and Caolan Byrne as McCann – create uncalled for (and unexplained) menace in spades, representing (I gather) the oppressive forces in society that seek to control and manipulate individuals, one of Pinter’s favourite themes. Lulu (Carla Harrison-Hodge), whose physical presence in the house is not really justified, weaves a form of feminine power into the action with her youthful, seductive presence. Nicolas Tennant as Petey, meanwhile, serves as an observer and commentator on the events of the play – it is he who tries to stand up for Stanley with his words, “Stan, don’t let them tell you what to do!”
Expect not to understand clearly what’s happening, because that is what Pinter intended. This is after all, in dramatist Martin Esslin’s phrase, ‘The Theatre of the Absurd’. You need to debate the many questions that are raised in this surreal play of the unrevealed and the contradictory in your own head. Pinter showed us that not everything needs to be explained clearly (reflecting real life) and that pauses, which are after all natural in conversation, can bring to the fore so much that’s unsaid.
Main image: Jane Horrocks as Meg and Sam Sainsbury as Stanley. Photo © Foteini Christofilopoulou.