The Birthday Party

I read an interview once where Stoppard said that people think of him as clever, but that he only learns stuff for the plays and that once he's written them he forgets all the information, which means that there is a possibility that he might one day encounter one of his own plays and not have an iota of a clue of what it's going on about.

I've honestly never found Stoppard that oblique, and I wouldn't say I've got a broad base of knowledge either. Granted, I've not seen all of his plays, but the ones I have seen, the subjects he's covered never stand in the way of the plays themselves. They don't all beautifully explain things like Arcadia does, but I coped with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern before I ever saw Hamlet, and Travesties with only the vaguest knowledge of Dadaism, and The Real Thing, Artist Descending a Staircase, The Hard Problem, etc. In fairness Hapgood was pretty rubbish, but I didn't feel blocked out, just bored.

Pinter is in many ways Stoppard's opposite - although Stoppard could be alienating with his subject matter, I've never felt left behind, whereas Pinter writes plays about probably very straight-forward things, but I always feel like I'm struggling to keep up.

Yes, Toby Jones seems miscast as Stanley - the fact that he and Zoe Wanamaker's  landlady, Meg, are about the same age means that her delusional flirtatiousness plays in a different context. But, that said, both actors are so strong and convincing in their roles that their odd relationship still works.

On the other hand, Stephen Mangan's Goldberg is a revelation. No, he's not the avuncular type one usually gets in the role. He's a tall powerful man at the peak of his powers, looming over everyone else, overwhelming them with his charisma and dominating them - and the play.  Always smiling, speaking in a raconteur's measured tones, oozing what passes for charm as he feeds us his endless stories and reminiscences which may or may not contain granules of truth, he's a performer doing his routine and all the more ominous and threatening because of it. His double act with his agitated, slightly deranged Irish henchman, McCann (a wonderful Tom Vaughan-Lawlor) works like a dream - they're a perfect match for each other, at the same time the source of most of the play's humour and all of its dark menace.

But the entire cast - not forgetting Peter Wight's solid Petey and Pearl Mackie's vivacious Lulu - are excellent and Ian Rickson's production is spot on. He allows the play to unfold on its own terms, never forcing the issue as some recent Pinter productions (thinking of Jamie Lloyd's overheated The Homecoming, primarily) have done.

The Birthday Party is maybe the most accessible of all of Pinter's plays. No, we don't really know who these people are - their back stories are bogus - or what exactly brought them together but we know enough and we can infer the rest. As always, Pinter takes an oblique approach but there are no hidden meanings. He's not a playwright of ideas but of situations amenable to conflict and in that regard this is one of his strongest and clearest works. Great theatre.

It's interesting that you say that. I haven't read the play, and didn't know it before going, so didn't realise that they were supposed to be so different in age. However, while I was there, I got the feeling that the casting amplified the weirdness/inappropriateness of another side of their relationship.

My feeling (and again, I haven't read the text so may be misreading things) was that Meg & Stanley's dynamic flitted between two things (a) two lovers, where he didn't really like her, and (b) as a quasi-mother-son thing, where he was a petulant child.

The latter seemed loudest in some of her lines and the way she seemed to dote on him (e.g. her saying something like "Not a girl, it's better to have a boy."). The fact that Toby Jones is so clearly not a child, and didn't seem too different in age from Zoe Wanamaker (especially compared with Peter Wright) amplified the weirdness of their uncertain relationship, as well as the absurdity & nervousness of the drum scene.

All in all, I felt that Toby Jones was amazing. His physicality worked well, especially in his scenes with Stephen Mangan. And his transformation for the final scene as well as *that* brief moment of lighting in the dark were fantastic.

Also there tonight with great front row seats. Thought cast were excellent with Toby Jones and Zoë Wannamaker really shining! Great theatre!

I agree. The complete blackouts were perfect! I also liked the notices about not eating in the theatre. Had my friend not bought me gins I'd not have drank either!

Were you on your own Callum? If so you may have been sitting beside me!

Ah it wasn't I. Alas I was in A13. Must recommend the front row for this play also. There is very little missed as the stage is fairly low and the closeness makes the atmosphere even more palpable!

Oh lots of us out then, didn't venture out in interval as too busy staring at empty seat along from me. You did well not to slum it back with the rest of us, around me were lots of glasses chinkers and that wretched illuminating phone in yes that moment.

Still one of those plays I would like to sort of linger over and think about instead of running for train which slightly distracts me with my unfitness. I agree and have awarded 4 *.

There's a quote from Pinter in the programme that I thought was especially telling:

"A character on the stage who can present no convincing argument or information as to his past experience, his present behaviour or his aspirations, nor give a comprehensive analysis of his motives, is as legitimate and as worthy of attention as one who, alarmingly, can do all of these things. The more acute the experience, the less articulate its expression."

I thought the weasel under the cocktail cabinet was excellent too.

I love the weasel. It was his half-jesting response to someone asking what his plays were about. He later claimed to be embarrassed about it but, frankly, I think it is a very good dramatic definition of what they are about - the dark forces lurking beneath the ordinary and the mundane.