WEST CHESTERFIELD, N.H. — Harold Pinter. Ah, Harold Pinter. I have struggled to understand the essence of Harold Pinter’s work since my college days. Pinter, often associated with the Theatre of the Absurd and playwrights such as Beckett and Ionesco, called his work “super realism.” He claimed theatre spent too much time giving exposition for everything — an artificial contrivance — so the audience could understand the given situation of the story. Instead, what we see in his plays skips the exposition, which feels more like real life precisely because we have no knowledge of any back story. We are left to take things as they come. This is such a departure from standard Theatre practice, that the result seems unreal.
When you see a Pinter play, you get your ticket, take your seat, strap in and prepare for a long, strange, trip. And what a wild trip we are given with the production of “The Caretaker” at the Actor’s Theatre of West Chesterfield — running weekends through July 25. The moment you sit down you are confronted with what appears to be an attic filled with junk. There are loose boards, stacks of newspaper, an ironing board, an old push mower, an old apartment sized gas stove, an old Pepsi machine, an antique sewing machine and two old metal beds that are reminiscent of the metal monstrosities often seen in 1950s hospital wards; kudos to prop mistress Emmadora Boutcher. The walls are stark and completely black, giving the impression one is floating in complete darkness — an impression that is completely intentional. One of the walls slants in toward the space giving the impression of an upper loft style space. One of the beds is covered with junk, making it completely unusable. A bucket is suspended from the ceiling and is accompanied by the solitary sound of dripping water, judiciously spaced to surprise us each time it happens. A single bare light bulb hangs from the ceiling. The lighting seems designed to emanate from that solitary source, which often gives the effect of placing the actor’s faces in dimness, another obvious intentional choice. Kudos to lighting and sound designer Squeak Stone.
It is often said Pinter’s plays are less about plot than about character and with the entrance of the first characters, Aston (Leo Mousseau) and Davies (Geof Dolman), we begin to understand the truth of that. Aston is a prissy and fastidious young man who doffs his rainwear and proceeds to sit on the one usable bed, working to repair an electrical plug for an antique toaster. His manner is odd and he does not seem to relate to Davies. When he speaks, it is with a thick lower-class English dialect and a bit of a lisp — sometimes making it difficult to understand the dialogue, but a lovely, fine detail which builds over time to add a nice touch of strangeness to the character. Davies is a whiney, garrulous, homeless old man that Aston found on the street and brought home. Indeed, he seems to have adopted the old man in much the same manner one adopts a stray kitten. The old man is very uncertain about why he is there and seems uncomfortable with the situation until he begins to realize Anton is offering him a place to sleep for the night.
The layout of the Actor’s Theatre is a modified thrust, and most directors have an instinct to keep actors from turning backs to the audience which often places all the action upstage. I was gratified to see James Gelter, the director of “The Caretaker,” was not afraid to exploit the limits of the stage, using the entire depth of the space. In thrust and arena stagings, one can’t be afraid to turn backs to the audience, often compensating with added movement or placing other actors in opposition so that we can read the action in their reactions. This very much enhances the super realism Pinter wanted. It also places characters practically in our laps which makes the action much more intimate.
We quickly find that the old man, Mac Davies, is not a man with much initiative. In fact, he has an array of excuses ready for why he can’t work, a situation that he obviously scrupulously avoids. He doesn’t have a decent pair of shoes and so cannot walk to the government records office which he says holds his papers. He has changed his name to Bernard Jenkins and so cannot be employed until he can get his papers to prove who he is. The weather is always so inclement that he cannot travel to get his papers. There is an almost continuous undercurrent of the sound of pelting rain which is fine tuned to be a major tonal presence without being overpowering. It lends a constant depressing darkness to the proceedings. Again, kudos to Designer Stone. Davies obviously wants to continue his current status as an indigent, because it requires minimal effort on his part and helps him play on the pity of others.
After Aston leaves, we are introduced to Mick, Aston’s older brother who owns the house and is letting his sibling live there. He fancies himself a tough street punk, wearing a black leather jacket, pegged jeans and a striped T-shirt. He sports large, fuzzy mutton chops and a wild, unruly thatch of hair and chin whiskers. His almost constant crouching posture conveys an animalistic quality, an almost apelike physicality, that he hopes will intimidate people. Given that Mick seems just a bit too old for the image he is trying to project, it makes a lot of his attitude seem like posturing. He indulges in hyper-kinetic, almost violent monologues which he seems to be able to turn off in an instant, becoming a normal affable guy. It is an alarming switch which actor James Gelter pulls off quite deftly.
Mick is fiercely protective of his brother but can’t admit to it. He also has grand plans for the house, seeing it as a “penthouse” and describing it in some exquisite detail in a long, wistful and dreamy monologue, wonderfully conveyed by actor James Gelter. It is the first time we see Mick as a real person with real needs. He seems desperate to find someone who can initiate his ideas. Aston desperately wants a normal relationship with someone, anyone, including his brother. He is the loneliest of the lonely characters, which seems to be the reason he adopted Davies. Davies is desperate for some sort of acceptance: each of the brothers has offered him the position of caretaker and he wants to keep his position at any cost, without having to actually do any work. Each of the characters seem desperate for something that is beyond their reach. They obviously don’t really want anything which will change their status quo. Especially if it requires them to do anything themselves. Aston has a long and tortured monologue in which he describes being a patient in a mental institution, an experience which left him mentally and emotionally deficient. It is a heart-breaking piece which is beautifully and simply performed by Mousseau and which is the emotional centerpiece of this work.
The actors in this production are completely immersed in their roles from start to finish. They understand the inherent character foibles and give them life with aplomb. We believe them implicitly. The conflicts are clearly defined, and the tensions are built slowly and purposefully to the not necessarily comfortable conclusion. The old man, Davies, depicts the slow conversion of an obsequious indigent to a sly and manipulative, almost Machiavellian backstabber with a measured grace— kudos to actor Dolman. I normally judge things that I see with one major rubric: “Is there anyone with whom I can identify and empathize?” In this story, the characters, and the actors, perform the impossible task of making us almost totally dislike them, while at the same time falling in love with them. The real tragedy of this story seems to be the fact that, even though they all have aspirations, they end up exactly where they started.
The musical accompaniment at the end and beginning of each scene has a tinkly, Phillip Glass quality, and which gives us the feeling of a clock ticking toward an eventual alarm. The costumes are meticulous in their selection and in their depiction of who these people are. From Aston’s almost formal fitted suit — flared leg bottoms and all, right for the period — and saddle shoes to Micks multi-pocketed and zippered black leather jacket and pegged jeans which almost pull him of that “teddy-boy” tough look but falls just short because he is seems so clean and just a bit too old for the image. Davies’ skivvies and long-underwear under his shapeless pants and too-small vest with the shabby overcoat and the scruffy slippers are perfect for him, and the stature he brings to the elegant smoking jacket given to him by Aston makes a lovely contrast as he begins to take on airs.
The lovely, almost overlooked rear-projection of rain rolling down the small window at the back of the set is a delicate yet moody touch.
In the end, while I may not have come to a more complete relationship with Harold Pinter, I feel I have been helped along by this rather finely envisioned production of “The Caretaker.”
The Caretaker continues performances July 23, 24 and 25 at Actors Theatre Playhouse at 21 Main Street, West Chesterfield, NH. Reservations are recommended. Visit atplayhouse.org for tickets.
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