Strange Interlude **

Lyttelton Theatre, National Theatre

EXCERPT: “for nearly the entire play there are only these four characters onstage and most of the interest is found in the subtext rather than the action unfolding. To exploit this, O’Neill dramatises the inner monologue onstage, inserting personal asides into the dialogue with unusual regularity. Though this grates at first and removes all subtlety and intrigue, the comedy devolved from it becomes crucial to retain our interest as the play develops.”

Eugene O’Neill’s epic play stands at a casual five hours. Thankfully, director Simon Godwin has taken the red pen to Strange Interlude, but it still comes in at three hours and fifteen minutes and is, I believe, still half an hour too lengthy.

The play attempts to span most of Nina’s life, a feisty heroine played with aplomb by Anne-Marie Duff, who makes the most of her charisma and attractiveness within the constraints of the patriarchal society she’s stuck in. Her father’s death and a misadvised relationship leaves her vulnerable and in dire need of a husband. Despite Charles’ fondness for her, she chooses the bumbling and idiotic Sam. Too late, she’s told by his mother that, unbeknownst to him, he will lose his mind. In this society, she is morally obliged not only to stay with him, but to bear him another man’s child and bring it up as Sam’s own.

Sam’s substitute, Dr Edmund Darrell, adds an extra complicating dimension to the love triangle that already existed, as his sporadic presence in their lives has emotional consequences for Nina, the jealous Charles, and Nina’s son Gordon, who resents and suspects him.

The play feels very much of its time. Soutra Gilmour’s superb costuming and set design reinforces this by exquisitely well thought-through set changes. Without these set changes, the play could have felt even more stagnant: for nearly the entire play there are only these four characters onstage and most of the interest is found in the subtext rather than the action unfolding. To exploit this, O’Neill dramatises the inner monologue onstage, inserting personal asides into the dialogue with unusual regularity. Though this grates at first and removes all subtlety and intrigue, the comedy devolved from it becomes crucial to retain our interest as the play develops.

In the penultimate scene, we have moved through time to see the family as they are with a grown up son and his fiancée. To my mind, this scene provided enough of a conclusion in itself, without needing the following one to cross the Ts and dot the Is. Including it meant that the play rather dribbled to its underwhelming – if neat – conclusion. This is not the fault of any ineptitude on the part of the cast – Anne Marie-Duff was perhaps not as mesmerising as recent tour de female forces onstage (Eve Best, Sheridan Smith and Hattie Morahan spring to mind in their portrayals of similarly iconic roles) but considering the anachronistic nature of the play she did well, whilst Jason Watkins (Sam), Darren Pettie (Dr Edmund Darrell) and Charles Edwards (Charles) created coherent, believable and distinctive characters. However, there was a lack of any real emotional engagement with its characters or situations. This, combined with the play’s length, was not winning.