Susan Priver and Shelly Kurtz (photo by Kayte Deioma)
Reviewed by Amanda L. Andrei
Odyssey Theatre
Through October 1
RECOMMENDED
In 1934, Danish physicist Niels Bohr wrote of material particles: “Everything we call real is made of things that cannot be regarded as real.” He may well have been writing about a Pinter play. A Slight Ache, written in 1958 by British dramatist Harold Pinter, pushes realism to its limits as undercurrents of darkness threaten to burst apart an elderly couple’s marriage and home.
Director Jack Heller adeptly captures the pauses and lulling rhythm of Pinter’s work, creating a trancelike atmosphere punctuated by sparse moments of ruin and ironic laughter — the exuberance of killing a wasp, for example, or the violent clatter of a tray on the floor.
Edward (Henry Olek) is a learned yet coddled man, an armchair anthropologist prone to paranoia and fantasy. When he notices a mysterious match seller (Shelly Kurtz) standing outside his house, he demands that his wife, Flora (Susan Priver), bring him to his den so that he can ascertain the peddler’s purpose.
Olek’s stream of consciousness is impressive; it’s textured against Kurtz’s silence and hobbled gait, forming tension and concern for the safety of either character, and making one wonder who is the stranger and who is the madman. By contrast, Priver, who has her own share of uncanniness, vacillates between sweet-as-marmalade when she beckons to the match seller and frighteningly delusional when she attempts to extract information from him. The effect is a nest of dread: language carefully daubing the crevices of dark desire and sexual frustration before a force greater than the individual crawls out and bites you.
Their world is realistic and subtle. Michael Mullen’s costumes speak volumes about each character. Edward dresses as if he’s ready to go on safari, exclaiming to his wordless guest that, “Africa’s always been my happy hunting ground, fascinating country,” before admitting he’s never been there (An explorer’s hat sitting on the top of his library shelf is another good visual tie-in.). Flora’s rosy dress and chiffon scarf make her look like a vintage Barbie, and the match seller’s clothes are so raggedy you can imagine the piquant smell of sweat rising from them. Jeff G. Rack’s set design likewise gives us a garden, scullery, and den that look exceedingly real, — illusions only confounded by how fluidly the actors move between them.
The beauty of staging this play — the fourth that Pinter wrote — is that in it we see a repetition of his motifs from his more popular pieces such as The Birthday Party — giving us insight into how he creates pressure through fear and the uncanny. (It’s a fear that never seems to be alleviated, or at least not through narrative.)
It would be too easy to analyze these characters through identity politics or their demographics. Their choices are too bizarre, their motivations overlapping and mysterious. Something bigger and unnamable is happening on the stage. Something that we call real is uncomfortably not real at all. We feel an ache that is more than slight.
Odyssey Theatre, 2055 S. Sepulveda Blvd., West LA. Opens Sat., Aug. 26; Fri.-Sat., 8 pm, Sun., 2 pm; thru Oct. 1. OdysseyTheatre.com
