(seen at the afternoon performance on 6th April 2024)
In contrast to the rather over-wrought production on this same stage in 2018, Jeremy Herrin’s directorial pace is measured and brings the play in a full 15 minutes under is predecessor.
Lizzie Clachan gives us an optical illusion of a set, three interconnecting wooden box rooms towards a vanishing point. The plain dark wooden planks as naked as the emotions the open walls allow to spill through from one space to the next.
A central table containing (watered) whiskey and glasses, a bench, a rocking chair, three seldom-used lightbulbs above. It is enough.
Utilising only two gears – slow in the first half, steady in the second, Herrin shifts the spotlight steadily between each member of the family to reveal their individual pain which ties into the overarching misery of their situation.
Brian Cox’s James Tyrone is no raging tyrant. A modestly unsuccessful success, he is far more nuanced than others in this role, suggesting a man who is unaware only partly deliberately. It adds a revealing layer and allows the whole to breathe out – letting the rest of the cast demonstrate their burdens more freely than in previous versions.
For Patricia Clarkson as Mary Tyrone, the full “Lady Macbeth” at the end feels more natural knowing her husband hasn’t driven her entirely to it. Poor medical advice is at the root of her addiction issues, the rest is a broader combination of upbringing and situation – her own choices as much as her husband’s.
A revealing and well-played second act scene with maid Cathleen (Louisa Harland) makes much of this. Harland herself shines in a tipsy moment to add a gentle lift to the bleakness.
Sons James Junior and Edmund (Daryl McCormack and Laurie Kynaston respectively) are given their space too. Not just pampered brats as Herrin’s reading again blames not just the father but also the mother and highlights their own decisions.
McCormack’s James Junior is no longer just a bull-headed braggard but a wounded beast fully aware of his own actions and the effect on others.
Kynaston finds an introversion about Edmund alongside the introspection, the shock of his attack on his brother as much a surprise to himself as the news of his own illness.
That we can draw a balanced conclusion on culpability is the strength of this production. Each person has a level of liability – there is no blaming James Tyrone entirely, as other productions do.
If in our psychotherapy-aware era the play is showing a few signs of foxing, Herrin succeeds in his attempt (stated in the programme) of “finding a way to unlock” this posthumously first-released Modern American classic.
Allow this night to carry you on its journey.
