Edward Albee has said, "Will Eno is one of the finest young playwrights I have come across in a number of years. Eno's work is inventive, disciplined, and, at the same time, wild and evocative." This play has opened to wide acclaim at London's Gate Theatre this year. Eno has also recently filmed a version of his first play a tragedy called Night, Night. His new play will be produced by the Rude Mechanicals next year.
Will Eno's voice is distinctive: he has a flair and facility for rich language that is most impressive--not just wordplay, but a genuine pleasure in communicating that's passed on to the audience, playfully and originally; caring about the meanings and the sounds of what he writes and having honest-to-goodness fun in the process. The Flu Season is, above all, a treat for the intellect, offering savory helpings of heightened theatrical dialogue of awe-inspiring depth and texture.
The play begins with a character who identifies himself as "Prologue" speaking contextual narration of varying relevance. When he's done, another character, "Epilogue," takes his place, providing an opposing point of view--less sunny and more cynical. Together, these two comprise a kind of postmodern Our Town Stage Manager, commenting not only on the action of the play but also on all the circumstances surrounding it, including the audience and each other and particularly this play's genesis and evolution. It's deliberately artificial and self-referential, especially in Act Two, when it becomes clear that Prologue and Epilogue are speaking as the playwright (rather than for him): the play becomes less about what it's heretofore been about and more about itself: process wins out over content.
That's kind of a shame, because the content, when it's given us, is engaging. The characters in the play that Prologue and Epilogue are so relentlessly narrating are a Man and a Woman who are patients in a mental hospital who have a brief and bittersweet romance. They are shepherded--sort of--by a bureaucratic Doctor who is preoccupied by almost every aspect of his existence except for his job, and a common-sensical Nurse who spends at least as much time managing the Doctor as her charges. All four interact in stylized fashion, musing about meaning and context and perspective nearly as much as Prologue and Epilogue do. But because they are talking about experiences, as opposed to the once-removed theatricality that is always the narrators' subject, they come close to achieving something profound, maybe even cathartic.
But then the -Logues break in, destroying whatever sense of empathy or involvement that the others have created. Eno loves to talk, but he hasn't learned here to show instead of tell. Detachment necessarily distances, and distance isn't what we seek in the theatre. Nevertheless, Eno's talent is thrilling.
I actually HAD the flu when I read this? So it was kind of hard? But then again, it's a PLAY and not a novel; as in, reading is not the apex of the experience, as plays (good ones anyway) are blueprints for the emotions that you experience DURING the play. So I could SEE how I'd be devastated when I would be hypothetically watch the play performed. To bungle the metaphor further, if Eno was an architect for human emotions, he'd be fucking Frank Lloyd Wright.
A really solid and ultimately sad play about two people finding and then losing love in a mental hospital. Sadly, the play is somewhat negatively affected by what appears to be the playwright's need to be at least somewhat avant-garde. Still, a really great read.