Chilean playwright Ariel Dorfmann wrote
Death and the Maiden as several South American states were emerging from the
shadow of the brutal military dictatorships of the 1970s and 80s. As the Arab
Spring takes hold, and the headquarters of the Secret Police are swept open in Tripoli and Cairo ,
Dorfmann’s play is frighteningly relevant. Sadly, it will probably continue to
be so.
In an unnamed South American state, Gerardo Escobar is a
liberal Civil Rights Lawyer, who has just been nominated to a Truth-and-Reconciliation commission following the re-establishment of
democracy. Paulina Salas is his wife - beautiful, intelligent, yet scarred by her torture
and rape at the hands of the military during the dictatorship. She is dismayed
to hear that Gerardo’s commission will investigate only those who have died, denying
her the opportunity of some form of catharsis.
Gerardo is visited by a stranger, a doctor called Roberto Miranda who has stopped to help him on the
road. Paulina believes she has heard his voice before, as the doctor who oversaw her
torture and rape. She captures Roberto at gunpoint, ties him up and threatens to
kill him in order to force him to confess his crimes, whilst her husband argues
that such actions will only perpetuate the cycle of violence in the country. As Paulina’s story is told, pieces of information emerge, but what is true and what has Roberto made up in order to secure his release?
This is a complex, intense work, better
suited to a small studio such as the Theatre Upstairs where it was first
performed than the Edwardian Pinter Theatre, although it is appropriate that
such a work should grace the stage which bears Harold Pinter’s name.
Perceptions of the characters shift throughout – Gerardo’s liberal values are
challenged when he doubts Roberto’s innocence, Paulina’s pain is undoubted, but is this
the only way in which she can achieve release? And is Roberto as he says an innocent
man? But why does he have a tape of Death and the Maiden in his car, the music
played by the Doctor who tortured Paulina?
Both Tom Goodman-Hill and Anthony Calf give powerful, nuanced
perfomances as Gerardo and Roberto respectively. But this play needs at its centre someone who can reveal the pain
and despair that Paulina has carried for 18 years, they must be capable of opening
up their soul. Thandie Newton as Paulina is very good but she doesn’t really have
the depths that this part requires. She is too pretty, too well manicured. Her
hair stays in place, her voice doesn’t crack from pain, you just aren’t
convinced that she has suffered as she describes. And without that necessary
pain at its heart, the play loses its undoubted power (though that is not helped by a half-empty
house and an unnecessary tension-killing interval). Which is unfortunate, as this production is probably the most
thoughtful and relevant piece of theatre currently showing in a dismal West End .
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