Unreachable by Anthony Neilson at the Royal Court Theatre
This intriguing play, finely directed by the author, is one of the more vibrant theatrical offerings now on in the West End. It has the aura of an unfinished work, as if it is being remade anew at each performance, the creative team grasping after something always just out of reach, paradigmatic of itself. And that is part of its charm.
It's had very mixed reviews but, to be honest, I thought the play was ground-breaking in its sincere attempt to map the spiritual trauma and dilemma of its characters. Some of our major playwrights are attempting this lately in subtle, almost unobtrusive ways. Caryl Churchill did it most intelligently in Love and Information.
The play plots the impact of a film director, Maxim (Matt Smith), on his creative colleagues as he stalls the making of his apocalyptic masterpiece by searching for the perfect light in which to shoot it on location. It's obvious that the perfect light has layers of obscure meaning but Neilson introduces this concept elegantly, not forcing the metaphor. Maxim is in conflict with his lead actor Natasha (Tamara Lawrence) and his producer Anastasia (Amanda Drew) who are themselves searching for greater meaning within circumference of their working lives. As are an intrusively snooping deaf financier (Genevieve Barr) and Max's deeply frustrated cinematographer (Richard Pyros).
Into this (wickedly funny) fraught human ambience erupts, literally from a suitcase, East European actor Ivan 'The Brute', played with virtuosic comic elan by Jonjo O'Neill. This dynamic, absurd character pulls the play in several directions at once, allowing a deeper spiritual energy to subvert and disrupt the narrative. Neilson's imaginative and moral courage to allow this bricolage to happen, listening to the promptings and ideas of his actors, means that, at least at the beginning of the run, he is fine-tuning the script before every performance. This ensures the play's excitement.
Several critics have decided that the play is no more than a first draft but I would argue that it is in fact always a new draft in the making. In this way Neilson allows small, random spiritual moments to leach through the text, much as they do in real life. The play values these and keeps us entertained, fascinated and constantly amused with the kind of exuberant theatrical language not heard on the London stage since the comedies of Christopher Fry.
It is not all haphazard spiritual searching: themes of the politics of personal relationships within a work-setting and the dehumanising effect of artistic creation are there too. Matt Smith is convincingly narcissistic and pained as Maxim, holding the wilder excesses of Neilson's dramaturgy together, despite the occasional corpsing and line forgetfulness of the cast. Each is somehow allowed their moment of awakening. The director has his vision and the final tableau brings it all alive in a startling theatrical picture.
