BAFTA Award winning writer Michael Wynne returns to the Royal Court Theatre with the world premiere of his latest play, exploring the threats of an outside world we cannot control. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know more about a piece where the real danger comes from one’s inner fears.
It’s not that long ago that our lives were changed forever, when we found ourselves confined to the prisons of our own homes. Something happened during that time. Something clicked inside our brains and completely turned around our way of thinking – and our way of behaving. Even when were again allowed to, many of us simply didn’t want to leave our houses. And it was not the virus that triggered that feeling. Experts had named it the ‘hut syndrome’ (some sort of hermit-like demeanor). But some people disagreed… Could it be that what was occurring to us was actually something much more rational? Could it be that, during that time, we had realized what a bitter, dangerous place the world is, and we just didn’t want to be a part of it anymore?
Last week, The Royal Court Theatre hosted the world premiere of Cuckoo, a new play by Michael Wynne exploring the terrors of our everyday. With a dark comedy approach to its writing, the piece centers around a family reunion in which Carmel and her daughter Megyn go visit grandmother Doreen – also accompanied by Aunt Sarah. Despite they all being present in the same room, it’s actually their phones that will be either the subject or channel of conversation. But also, the reason why Megyn will run into her granmother’s room without any intention of ever coming out…
An interesting premise without a doubt, the script does however pose a few problems – those stemming primarily from its craftsmanship. Although Wynne is able to set and define the story’s universe with remarkable realism, the pacing is severely affected (particularly, in the beginning) – featuring excerpts of dialogue that, though not necessarily pointless, do jeopardize the narrative’s pacing and would probably work better had they been edited more consistently. The tone is also another matter of debate – mainly because it’s difficult, even confusing to make up our minds about which kind of tale we’re being told. It’s indisputably funny, that’s for sure, but the eeriness that keeps floating in its atmosphere makes you question if it’s something else – an issue which also affects the overall understanding of the piece.
Such ambiguity may be intentional, though – precisely, due to the metaphorical tinge that dwells within the plot. Perhaps that’s what the play is all about: how we are haunted by the fears that a world that keeps spinning around won’t allow us to process – as all that we really need is a chance to stop. But it’s not clear. And even though that’s quite an astute technique to bring about some chat after the show, too much can also affect the final impression we develop about it.
Directed by Vicky Featherstone, the staging is generally enticing and well executed – also thanks to Peter McKintosh’s truthful yet occasionally symbolic design. In addition, the performances are the greatest highlights of this production – with two special mentions to be made. Sue Jenkins gives a most engaging rendition as Doreen, presenting us with a character as weak as it’s strong – making of her vulnerability her greatest fortitude. However, the most shining bit derives from Michelle Butterly’s bleak yet always hilarious depiction of Carmel – carrying the part with staggering insightfulness, as the role (a mother struggling to provide for and understand her teenage daughter) requires.
Cuckoo is the kind of piece you’ll get mixed thoughts about – not because of the points that will come to you, but because you don’t know what those actually mean. Did you like it or not? It’s hard to say. It’s fun, but sometimes a bit too slow. It does have a transcending message – or better said, a vibe, as you will leave the theatre still wondering about its true motive. All in all, it seems as if there’s some homework to do. But it’s fair to say it already walks on a steady ground. At the end of the day, any valuable work of art needs to know its identity – and more importantly, make that clear to whom it’s speaking to. That may be the trouble with this one, though easily redeemable. It definitely has voice. But it still needs to find the right pitch for it.
All pictures credit to Manuel Harlan.
Cuckoo plays at London’s Royal Court Theatre until 19 August. Tickets are available on the following link.