Michael Hasting’s only unperformed piece celebrates its world premiere in this small production featuring both new and veteran West End actors alike. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know more about its harrowing story dealing with family issues and spiritual crisis.
There’s all these little voices in my head. And they’re all against me! I feel you, girl. I remember the last time something concerning the words “little” and “head” also got inside me. Cheap joke – I’m aware. But he wasn’t what you’d call a blushing flower either – you know the rest of the lyrics. Don’t get all jazzy out of the blue, because this is no story about tone-deaf flappers (it’s time you accepted it, Sally) or young pleasure-seeking bourgeois. As a matter of fact. it may be exactly the opposite: the gloomy aftermath of a society torn to pieces (though never into oblivion) by the decadence of a group who could only find their identity by depriving others from their own.
The conflict between organised religion and individual belief is perhaps one of the strongest themes when it comes to people’s personal discovery. From works of Machiavellian introspective such as Amadeus to more principled pieces like The Hunchback of Notre Dame, the clash between private and communal morality has been a cornerstone for cultural evolution of every kind. Michael Hasting’s Don’t Destroy Me is a story of loss: the loss of a nation’s origins, of their citizen’s past, and for some, even their own destiny. Revolving around an old Jewish refugee now confined to the bogus liberty of a new life in London, the plot deals with his young son finally reuniting with him after being raised up away during the Nazi upheaval – only to find out that, just as many things after the war, their bond as a family may have fallen too.
Written upon the rise of the Angry Young Men movement (because we’re way in a better mood now, no doubt…), the play intends to explore several themes of strong, transcendent meaning – all of them correlating to one simple though still unanswered question: what is our purpose? Presenting a divergent troupe of characters stuck on a same dead point from different angles, the piece attempts to give us a vision of the struggles of unusual yet common people fighting for survival within their own inner hell. There’s the single mother neighbour who’s sunk into insanity after the disappearance of her husband during the Blitz; her delusional daughter who dreams of becoming an actress, but whose only stage (both professional and in life itself) will the be the stairs landing of her building; the opportunist wife that savagely wants to hold dominion over what doesn’t belong to her; the faithful son that only longs for some light to be shed throughout his journey; and the distant father who’s already assumed that for him, that journey finished the day he left his country.
Conceived with robust topics, the piece however fails to give them any more insight than their own definition. We are told how these folks are, and their goals and motifs are clearly exposed, but none of them experiences any development. Their peculiarities are intensified, but never transformed. And so, it basically finishes as it starts – not because it completes a cycle, but because unfortunately it never takes off. Its unresolved structure is, most probably, the root of this problematic outcome, as the tale manages to introduce us to both the personages and their strife, but doesn’t allow for such combat to unfold and evolve – thus, preventing both them and their audience from making any progress, let alone face a proper conclusion. In addition, though some dialogue excerpts achieve a satisfying level of realism and, to some extent, profundity, many other moments feel a bit unpolished or even over-the-top – packed with excessively exaggerated lines and dramatic elements that, far from bringing any solidity to the recount, only makes it look shallow and soap operatic.
Directed by Tricia Thorns, the staging (sets credit to Alex Marker) brings out an interesting look as for its intricacy as a figurative design. Nonetheless, the intimacy of the venue (a black-box theatre with the viewers literally sitting around the stage), apart from the psychological tone of the material, suggest that maybe a more abstract, sometimes symbolic, approach could have been more effective. At the same time, the lighting (credit to Neil Brinkworth) though adequate in general, doesn’t draw out much of an atmosphere except for a few scattered transitions, missing an opportunity to accentuate some key components within the narrative, while also regaling the public with more stimulating visuals.
As for the cast, though all of the performances prove care and dedication to the work, wistfully many of them don’t get to be too compelling – either because they feel slightly bland and unemotional, or because they feel too intense to ever come as believable. Anyhow, there’s still a couple of mentions to be made, the first coming from Sue Kelvin in the part of Mrs. Miller -stealing the scene with her magnetic presence which exudes charm, power and charisma in the show’s second most brief but yet highly memorable portrayal. On the other hand, Eddie Boyce excels in his debut role as one of the leads, Sammy, giving incredible verity to his persona and endowing them with confidence, attitude and youthful, naive enchantment.
A work that’s never seen before, Don’t Destroy Me skittishly flaunts the germ of Hastings’s talent, but still lacks the knowledge and sophistication that only years of maturity in their craft can provide an author with. Played with commitment but not enough sparkle, the effort of acquainting us to a new, old work is no doubt worth of a praise, but further polishing in its delivery would have ensured the ovation. Instead, the work seems to quiver at too many moments, and though at some points it attains some stability, the overall sensation is that it doesn’t stand up by it own for too long. It’s a laudable endeavour. But that should just be the start.
All pictures credit to Phil Gammon.
Don’t Destroy Me plays at London’s Arcola Theatre until 3 February. Tickets are available on the following link.