‘The Birthday Party’ review
‘an impressively cohesive feat of theatre, sparking one of Pinter’s most iconic texts to a pink-hued vivacity. Truly exceptional’
Witty, unsettling, and sometimes downright confusing, Pinter’s writing is a hefty undertaking for many and yet Woodplayers’ production of The Birthday Party blows any doubts of any kind of half-heartedness out the water. Following the sole resident of a boarding house, Stanley, attended to by the routine-devoted Meg alongside her routine-adapted husband, Petey, the show draws us through a both amusing and nightmarish encounter with two unexpected visitors set on throwing Stanley a party for his birthday.
Upon entering the Collingwood Arts Centre, the attention to detail is so satisfying to see - carried from Producer Evie Trueman’s stunning visual branding, pink balloons are tied aloft and below the central stage, which itself is square and made up of two levels with a circular dining table and chairs at its centre. The lighting is similarly complementary, pink hues varying in intensity are situated directly above the audience, Pinter’s world encroaching further into our own for every minute we spend in the room - throughout, the lighting design is used sparingly and to its absolute greatest effect. The instrumental transitions are also always measured and fitting, with musical choices apt to conveying the liminality of the space. Being able to hear actors moving around backstage for their entrances and exits contributes to an unsettled feeling in the space, the audience hyperaware of the boarding house’s ever-present counterparts and never once being able to feel completely secure.
Across all aspects of the production, Director Sam Bentley’s vision is executed flawlessly. Assisted by Nia Keogh-Peters and Isaac Slater, the directing team ensure the in-the-round staging is used to its most appropriate and most effective: each choice enables the kind of immersion the text thrives on. The composition of the titular birthday party scene is an absolute joy to watch. Bentley, Keogh-Peters, and Slater not only manage to stage such an intimate play effectively for every audience member’s eye line but particularly excel in curating larger group scenes, balancing the action between the characters impeccably.
Each performer is deft in their characterisation and contributes delightfully to the ensemble as a whole. Cillian Knowles commands Stanley with a certain nervous prowess fitting for such an enigmatic protagonist. Sometimes childish, sometimes strikingly middle-aged, Knowles is able to convey the ambiguity of Stanley’s nature and how the façade he has become comfortable with (whether it is any good is another matter entirely) is soon ruptured by the arrival of Goldberg and McCann. Stalking around in his billowy pink-striped pyjamas with his large black-framed glasses brilliantly half-obscuring certain reactions, Knowles is proficient in displaying a consistently engaging and watchable character - even in his stillest moments. His relationship with Meg, too, establishes a sense of the uncanny and brings to the forefront the soon-to-be-familiar conflation of amusement and discomfort that permeates the play.
Edward Clark’s Petey is wonderfully understated in the first act, being almost very much part of the furniture. His character arc is perhaps one of the most enjoyable to watch; his lengthy silences throughout the play posit him as both a source of humour and of mystery, with his moments hesitation in the final act raising a question of conscience, something seemingly long-forgotten from the play’s outset. Clark is undoubtedly talented in his subtlety and offers myriad calmer moments for the audience to chew on amidst swathes of more chaotic intensity.
Opposite Clark is Beatriz Camarotte, who gives an absolutely stellar performance as Meg - her microexpressions are one of the greatest highlights of the whole show. The earnestness with which she listens to other characters, waiting for any kind of response and delighted once she receives anything of substance, quickly becomes overwhelmingly endearing as the play progresses. Her emotional displacement following the party is effective in adopting the tonal shift with dignity and steers the play wonderfully into its third act, and the flair with which she is able to act across from every other character, even McCann, is endlessly impressive.
Martha Buttle’s Lulu doesn't appear as much as the other players, and yet she makes the very most of every interaction she has. Confident and breezy upon her first entrance, she is able to bring a semblance of lightness and normality to the play, as short-lived is it is. Buttle is especially swift in providing a great deal of comic relief during the titular birthday party sequence, making doe-eyed advances towards Goldberg which quickly culminate in a stark tonal shift. Her manner from the midway point of the show is admirably affecting, and she’s deft at navigating odder lines with complete and convincing sincerity.
As for the visitors, they are genuinely something else. Henry Smith inhabits Goldberg like no other: from beginning to end, he carries an uncanny swagger with him, unerringly regulating every interaction he is present for. His flowing speech is particularly impressive, both articulate and at ease, complete with facial expressions which assert a firm mask and moments where his eyes reveal the darkness beneath his formulated exterior. However, Smith’s performance never feels one-note; his depiction of Goldberg’s brief spiral in the final act is an accomplished and convincing example of the give-and-take which defines the way Goldberg and McCann function, and the pair’s stichomythic exchange when interrogating Stanley is immensely gratifying to watch too.
Miranda Pharoah’s McCann is nuanced and daunting, yet there are delightful glimpses of uncertainty, even awkwardness, in her actions - perfectly displaying the kinds of juxtapositions the show embodies. The way Pharoah delivers her briefer lines is particularly satisfying, her Irish accent providing an inflection that makes each statement sound like a question, leaving her scene counterparts scrambling to fill the gap. Her singing at the party is a converse flicker of vulnerability, and she plays this moment with great aptitude, with similar moments of seeming honesty grounding the play away from each character’s conception of reality. Additionally, the decision to maintain her name as ‘Dermot’ is played brilliantly amidst other sprinklings of absurdity, such as Stanley’s birthday suit atop his pink pyjamas.
In all, Woodplayers’ The Birthday Party is an impressively cohesive feat of theatre, sparking one of Pinter’s most iconic texts to a pink-hued vivacity. Truly exceptional.
By Emi Sharples.