I went to see this play on the weekend. Essentially it is the story of three families – although, I was thinking before that you could much more easily say it was the story of three women (in fact, some of the advertising referred to it as a triptych of three mothers) or even of their three children, in ways you really couldn’t say it was about three fathers. The blurb on the advertising also made it seem this would be much more about social class than it ended up being –although, clearly that was also a major theme – which is interesting, as Australia has this image of itself as the great egalitarian society (something much more true when this play was set (1968) than even today) and so that these issues even get an airing is worth considering.
I think it is best to think of this play from the perspective of parental fear – and so perhaps that is why the focus is on the three mothers. The three mothers have much to worry about in relation to their children. One of the children, of course, never appears in the play – having recently been killed in Vietnam after being called up in the draft. This is the child of the local head master – and, hardly surprisingly, the mother is yet to have gotten over this.
The son of some recently arrived migrants from England is in remission from blood cancer – so is living under a death sentence even though he looks fine. His parents are keeping this a secret from him, but he has been able to guess his fate from what his doctor has and hasn’t said to him. Here we have a family based around ‘protective silences’ – with both parents and the child refusing to say what they know so as the protect the ones they love. There is a lovely bit early in the play where this is made explicit in relation to the trivial – so as to make it clear later the importance of this when the matter is the son dying – this is the holiday they are about to take – and both mother and father speak to the son separately to say they know how little he really wants to go on the holiday and how little he is likely to enjoy it, but if he could just pretend to be having fun for the sake of the other parent, who really needs to believe he is enjoying himself, that would be an act of kindness. This was so touching, even while meant to be funny in terms of the play, I think – for it plays with the multiple layers of truth and of mild dissembling that are meant as acts of love.
The third mother has a daughter and the daughter is clearly interested in the boy with cancer – despite not knowing he has cancer. The mother’s worry isn’t his cancer – she doesn’t know about that either yet – but rather that this boy is clearly not from the same social class as her daughter – and she is of that class of people who are certain that hard work and determination are all that is required to move between classes, and so if you are of one class it is a personal and moral failing. The ever-present fear of pregnancy is unavoidable and the daughter being given a piece of jewellery by the boy following the two young people acting in the school production of A Mid-Summer Night’s Dream together (which is how the play begins) does nothing to allay her parents’ fears.
The notions of time played out here are really interesting – with the middle class parents fixated on the future (and the various permutations of such a future playing out in their fears), the English parents having to live in the immediate present, since their son will soon be dead and they can’t bring themselves to think about that, and the wife of the principal to whom time has more or less stopped – although, perhaps the true cruelty is that it hasn’t stopped at all and each day brings her further and further away from her son.
The three families go off on summer holidays – all go off to various beach locations – the school principal to the Gold Coast (think Florida), the parents with the daughter to a caravan park with their van and the English family to a relatively local beach with a tent that leans against their car. The principal’s wife is under orders to ‘be normal’ and so she spends a lot of time talking to people about their lives. Eventually she is drawn to a young man, just married, who is, presumably, about the same age of her now dead son. Their relationship is discovered by the principal who threatens to have her sent to an asylum so she can have electric shock treatment. What is particularly interesting here is the notion that grief, in its many guises, is something that can be ‘treated’ using technology. Also the notion that because they are living in Australia (a nation with one of the highest standards of living in the world – we are repeatedly told) this means sometimes we must make sacrifices (aka: sending our children off to die in countries we couldn’t previously find on a map) to ensure the continuation of that standard of living. That this might overcome the grief of a mother probably ought to sound bizarre to us – at least, I would like to believe it would.
She runs away from the Gold Coast holiday and ends up on the same beach that the English family are holidaying at – the son and her end up performing a play together – one involving her crippling herself due to the loss of a lover (a ghost, no less) and the ghost saving her at the cost of his own eternal damnation. All of which looks a bit like the power of art over technology as a means of addressing mental anguish.
The middle class family with the daughter also end up on the same beach after a storm wrecks virtually everything at the caravan park. The mother controls everything in the family through a series of complaints about the ineffectualness of both the father and daughter. That this is a game the father plays along with, effectively creating situations (the loss of car keys, the forgetting of presents) that then allow the mother to have something to complain about – is something the daughter hasn’t really understood and therefore something the daughter makes explicit only to be put back in place by both mother and father – again, families are about the unspoken, even if the unspoken isn’t quite as consequential as cancer. I’ve a feeling people will see this scene quite differently to how I’ve read it – seeing the daughter as the speaker of truth in the family – but truth comes onion like.
A doctor has told the young man who is on the cusp of the slide into degeneration and from there onto death that if he wants to ever have sex, now is the time to be getting on with it. So, he asks the daughter of the middle class parents – note, this is the worst of her parents’ fears realised, given that were she to become pregnant there is no question of him marrying her and so on. This scene is interesting for so many reasons – not least that the standard trope here is being played with, for it is generally the young man about to go off to the war who gets to have sex in this way. I’ve never found sex a simple thing – which is a pity, as I’m sure if it were a simple thing it would be much more enjoyable – and so sex proves here as well. Look, you don’t have sex with someone just because they are dying – everyone one is dying, it is the basic human condition, but there is something really troubling about the idea of a doctor telling a young man he should have sex as soon as possible and this being the way the young man finds out he is dying. Something deeply troubling. I think I would rather a doctor just said to me I was going to die than, ‘now would be a good time for you to get a root’.
The play ends with a group of students, presumably the middle class daughter in among them, but I may have missed this, studying the first scene of King Lear – any play that moves from A Mid-Summer’s Night Dream to King Lear probably isn’t going to make you want to sing and dance on the way home – in fact, I found myself choking back tears at the end, Lear does that to me anyway, but here it was particularly poignant (I’m bloody hopeless at plays – they are a torture to me at times, but I do love them all the same).
This was a lovely performance, by the way. I loved the sparseness of the stage and the acting was strong and, given the sometimes exaggerated lines characters were given – to make it clear to the audience what they needed to think about – it was acted at just the right level of verisimilitude, or even perhaps a little ‘under-played’, where it could too easily have ended up farce – a real mistake, I think, in terms of the themes and writing overall.
If you can get along to this at the Malt House, I recommend it – otherwise this is an interesting play, and one with lots to think about afterwards.