Deep Blue Sea

I felt it was time for another cultural outing, so on Saturday I went to see Deep Blue Sea at the Vaudeville Theatre, the same place I saw lovely Christian Slater in Swimming with Sharks.

This time my stalk-o-meter was fixed on Dugald Bruce Lockhart and Jack Tarlton, two of the guys from Propeller, who I was curious to see doing something not Shakespearian. The play was also directed by Propeller’s creator, Edward Hall.

I went for the matinee show so was surrounded by an audience who I imagine had turned up in a Saga Tour bus. I swear I was about the only person there who was less than a hundred. That’s OK though, they’ve very polite, and it means I can easily beat them in a race for the bar or the toilets.

Set in one room throughout, the play focuses on Hester (Greta Scacchi) who has left her husband to move in with a younger man, Freddie (Dugald Bruce Lockhart). Despite her devotion to him it has become apparent that he is less committed to the relationship, so she has decided to take the sensible option and kill herself with the gas fire. Alas, not only has she cocked up her relationship she’s cocked up her suicide – she forgot to put a shilling in the meter, so all she gets is a nasty bit of lung pollution.

The rest of the play deals with her boyfriend, husband and friend’s reactions to her attempted suicide and her struggle with her feelings for Freddie. Dugald is great in his role as the somewhat out-of-his-depth boyfriend (though I preferred him looking like Dorothy from The Golden Girls in Twelfth Night), as is Jack Tarlton as the uncomfortable best friend who gets dragged in to the whole sorry scenario. Greta Scacchi I was slightly less convinced by, especially during her many breakdowns which didn’t really convey much sincerity or raw emotion.

By the end of it I kind of wished she would just top herself properly, not because I didn’t like the production, I just got sick and tired of the character and her pathetic blathering. She didn’t seem to possess any kind of personality outside of her obsession for Freddie, and her inability to see that he was unsuitable for her, so it was difficult to form any bond or feel sympathy.

I’ve seen the play described as “one of the greatest pieces of British theatre ever written.” Well, um, excuse my impertinence as a relatively new theatre goer, but I didn’t think it was *that* good. I mean the performances were fine, I just thought it was all decidedly short on action. Though it did back up something I’ve been giving a lot of thought to recently – the idea that being in love with somebody prevents you from seeing them as they really are.

Much as we think we are free spirits, we are victims of our hormones and emotions, and when you fall in love with someone you can be become obsessed with an idea of them and consumed by a desire that bears no relation to the reality of the person you’re objectifying. I had a conversation with Justin once about being in love and then finding out that the person you’re in love with doesn’t exist.

At the end of the play, Freddie has left Hester and she is busily packing his suitcase to forward on to him. As there is no dialogue to this section we don’t know whether she has realised that her interpretation of Freddie is an illusion, or whether she has just given up. Will she move on or will she reattempt suicide? The ending was a big unanswered question and I felt we had invested too much in the character to not be given a resolution. But then I guess it leaves us all free to invent an ending that suits us.

I’ve been kind of interested in reading about the history of the play. It was written by Terrence Rattigan in 1952 and was inspired by the suicide of one of his gay lovers. There’s a suggestion that he had to make it into a straight play to escape the old theatrical censors, while there are also staunch defenders who claim that the character of Hester could never *possibly* be written for anybody other than a woman. I mean, she’s needy, obsessive and has a tendency for melodrama, and those aren’t stereotypical gay male traits AT ALL , now are they? No siree Bob.

I know I would have enjoyed it more if it had been a queer version.