Tag Archives: Marylouise Burke

“Infinite Life” at the National Theatre

Annie Baker’s new play might be the quietest you’ll ever see in a theatre… which has an appeal. Six characters sit around on sun-loungers talking. They come and go a little. They are silent a lot of the time. And they never raise their voices.

The women, and one man, are on a fasting retreat, with aims that vary from miracle cures to managing chronic pain. But nothing really happens. There’s an obsession with medical language that Baker makes magically poetic. Yet we learn surprisingly little about this taciturn lot.

Time is punctuated by announcements from Sofi, whose struggle and story is our focus. As she becomes weaker from not eating (suffering is part of the procedure, of course) there are surreal touches: some smart, some funny. But even oddity isn’t overplayed by Baker.

Credit to director James Macdonald, who tackles the piece with steely nerve – so much silence! Is it hard to handle… or even stay awake? And what to do as a performer? The cast is calm and in control. Christina Kirk has it comparatively easy as Sofi; we get to hear plenty of her troubles – and fantasies – through tortured late-night phone calls. The rest – Marylouise Burke, Mia Katigbak, Kristine Nielsen, Brenda Pressley and Pete Simpson – all impress with close work. But the restraints imposed on them are the key. These are glimpses at lives. Baker’s dialogue is accomplished, but they characters aren’t close to each other and we aren’t allowed close to them either.

There’s a point to all the reserve. While Infinite Life is austere, the play is also philosophically rich. The question of other minds is brought into focus by it all and by discussions of pain. The extreme treatment volunteered for would please a Stoic, but it makes those undergoing it lose touch with reality. And don’t forget denial can be indulgent. Talk of souls becomes explicitly linked with religion, energy and flux. All this on an empty stomach.

It’s hard to fault the play’s originality – the production is intelligent and brave. But Infinite Life is hard work. Lots of plays tackle philosophy – and Baker is good at it – but you do have to be in the market for metaphysics to buy this one. I’m just glad I had an overpriced sandwich beforehand.

Until 13 January 2024

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Marc Brenner

“John” at the National Theatre

Annie Baker’s new play is probably the best show at the Dorfman Theatre since… the last play by Annie Baker was staged there. This is a major writer with a unique voice, forging works of originality, distinguished by intelligence, humour and a distinctive quietude.
John has the bare bones of a plot: a couple, whose relationship is on the rocks, visit a guest house for a weekend break. It’s a more a scenario than a story. Not a lot happens and you spend plenty of time watching people eat biscuits. But the play is so fecund with ellipses and questions it feels perfectly replete.

Jenny and Elias are the solipsistic couple on the verge of breaking up, Anneika Rose and Tom Mothersdale deliver crafted portrayals of these neurotic Millennials, bringing out a lot of gentle jokes. Neither is very appealing, with cares and concerns that are all of the moment. The real stars of the play are the two much older characters: the B&B’s owner, Mertis, and her friend Genevieve. Marylouise Burke plays the kooky proprietor to perfection, being adorably endearing and deeply mysterious. It’s an appropriately detailed performance, full of nuance and control. In her smaller role, June Watson excels in delivering the jokes with dead-pan perfection. Don’t rush to the bar too quickly after the second act, as Genevieve’s monologue after the curtain has fallen is not to be missed.

 June Watson and Marylouise Burke

The giant red curtain is opened and closed by Burke for each act, nicely summarising Baker’s extreme and playful approach to naturalism. The dialogue rings true, even when there are flights of fancy, and the pacing is slow, emphasised by a ticking clock and Peter Mumford’s lighting design. Restraint is the key, which places the burden on the cast and director James Macdonald. Resisting temptation, not an action feels rushed, as that would break the spell. John has a strange magic.

This is a three-hour play that doesn’t feel a moment too long. The one-room set with its excess of gewgaws comes to fascinate as it embodies Mertis’ object-orientated ontology. From the dolls she collects to the sunsets she contemplates, all matter is alive. Talk of ghosts and the battle of Gettysburg, along with personal histories full of playful parallels, are all toyed with – and debunked. Downright puzzles and unanswered questions abound. Here is a real naturalism – a new kind – that creates a play unlike any other.

Until 3 March 2018

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Stephen Cummiskey