Tennessee Williams’ The Glass Menagerie was first performed in 1944, the year after his sister, Rose, was subjected to a lobotomy, after which she was institutionalised for the rest of her life. In some ways, this play – the one that launched Williams’ career as a playwright – is much more forgiving of him and the complicated relationship he had with Rose and his mother, Edwina. He’ll be much more critical of how his family treated his sister when he writes Suddenly Last Summer and delves into how the medical establishment has often disbelieved women when consulting doctors.
It seems
right that his early memory play (a term Williams coined in the opening
narration) is “dimly lighted, sentimental and not realistic” as protagonist Tom
Wingfield explains. As a writer, he is starting to unpack his past – his lower
class background, his suppressed homosexuality, his overbearing mother, while
he forgives himself for leaving.
I’ve seen this
play twice over the past twenty years and my memories of it are both clear and
hazy. There are clear moments of Tom and his mother arguing, Tom and Jim on the
landing outside the front door, Laura fixated on her glass sculptures and the
women dressing up for dinner. I didn’t remember how ever-present the absent
father is – his disappearance at the surface of the family’s fracturing, his
picture hanging in the living room, staring at them all. I didn’t remember how
tender Jim is with Laura in their scene together, even though he is lying to
her the whole time.
Watching
Running with Scissor’s new production, currently playing at the Meat Market’s
Stables space in North Melbourne, was like being reminded of a story I’d heard
long ago. Directors Nadia Sirninger Rankin and Nicholas Reynolds have embraced
the dimly-lit aesthetic, enveloped the stage in theatrical haze and have
designed the show to be watched in traverse.
The box-without-sides
design by Ashely Reid suggests voyeurism but it also obscures some moments, for
both good and bad. Occasionally, missing bits felt perfectly suited to an
imperfect memory. Sometimes the actors were behind the coat rack by the front
door and all I could do was listen, momentarily robbed of connection.
A lot of
important stuff happens outside the front door and Rankin and Reynolds haven’t
found a good way to keep the characters in full view. But when the action is
central in Reid’s gorgeously-designed living and dining room, the hot-box
feeling of being trapped with these characters takes over.
Oliver
Gorringe’s Tom is delicate and softly-spoken. You can see the older, wiser writer trapped inside the timid son and brother though; Gorringe's performance suggests a Tom trying to break out of his shell. Tom's opening monologue should usher us into the world, though playing to both sides of the house robs us
of the full impact of this captivating introduction by Williams, which brings us up-to-speed
on the politics of the time and the dynamics of the family and the structure of
the play itself.
The cast
took some time to warm up and settle into their characters on opening night.
Early on in the show, they weren't quite connecting, occasionally playing past each other. But as the show progresses, and the drama ramped up, things started to come together. Linda Cookson
makes a meal out of Amanda, the problematic matriarch. She shines as mother flies off the handle later in the show. Caitlin McCallig plays Laura
as suitably lost in a world that has no place for her, without othering
the character too much. Columbus Lane’s gentleman caller is
compelling, as he inserts himself into the family home, his
motivations unclear, even to himself.
Viv Hargreaves’ lighting is suitably cosy, finding warmth in the candle-lit scenes. Rohan Dimsey's sound design is a a mixed bag; the songs from the Victrola are evocative, but the score underneath stories from these characters' pasts feels too on-the-nose. A rabid heartbeat at one moment feels apropos, but other sound effects try to up the tension too much.
Williams’
play is his earliest success and remains thoughtful and insightful eighty years
later. Running with Scissors’ production is solid and delivers the text with
passion and a wistful nostalgia.
- Keith Gow, Theatre First
The
Glass Menagerie is
running until August 2
Photos: Matthew Chen
Comments