Skip to main content

A Kind of Alaska

Eastgate Theatre, Peebles
Three stars

In a white hospital ward, a woman wakes up to the world she used to know, but which isn’t quite the same as what feels like moments ago. In actuality in Harold Pinter’s late period miniature, Gina went to sleep as a teenage girl twenty-nine years ago, and has come to as a middle-aged woman, but with all her girlish dreams of old gushing out now in a torrent of brain/speech activity.

Watched over by doting doctor Hornby, husband of Deborah’s sister Pauline, the latter of whom he might well have met while caring for her sibling, Deborah is initially overwhelmed by a rush of memories. Among the litanies of boyfriends and fall-outs, long-buried intimations of something far darker surface briefly before she flashes forward to the next thing. When exactly those things happened, if at all, is up for debate.

Inspired by Oliver Sacks’ book, Awakenings, which looks at the effects of encephalitis lethargica, or sleepy sickness, which leaves sufferers in a long-term comatose state, Pinter’s 1982 play is uncharacteristically specific in situation and locale. Out of this, however, he delves deep into the psyche of being a stranger in a strange world.

Michael Emans’ revival for Rapture Theatre’s Rapture Bites season of touring lunchtime theatre is pitched high from the off. Where one might expect quietude, some moments feel unnecessarily declaimed. Despite this, the play’s cast of three led by Gina Isaac as Deborah, capture the sense of mutual bewilderment that has shocked them all into life.

Burt Ceasar makes a brooding Hornby and Janet Coulson a resigned Pauline. Both characters have had their lives, and seem shell-shocked into silence by having them turned upside down like this. As Deborah, Isaac has her move between hysteria and eventual acceptance as she comes to terms with her past and squares up to her present. In terms of the future, however, chances are she’ll never quite manage to come in from the cold.

The Herald, March 27th 2019

ends



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Losing Touch With My Mind - Psychedelia in Britain 1986-1990

DISC 1 1. THE STONE ROSES   -  Don’t Stop 2. SPACEMEN 3   -  Losing Touch With My Mind (Demo) 3. THE MODERN ART   -  Mind Train 4. 14 ICED BEARS   -  Mother Sleep 5. RED CHAIR FADEAWAY  -  Myra 6. BIFF BANG POW!   -  Five Minutes In The Life Of Greenwood Goulding 7. THE STAIRS  -  I Remember A Day 8. THE PRISONERS  -  In From The Cold 9. THE TELESCOPES   -  Everso 10. THE SEERS   -  Psych Out 11. MAGIC MUSHROOM BAND  -  You Can Be My L-S-D 12. THE HONEY SMUGGLERS  - Smokey Ice-Cream 13. THE MOONFLOWERS  -  We Dig Your Earth 14. THE SUGAR BATTLE   -  Colliding Minds 15. GOL GAPPAS   -  Albert Parker 16. PAUL ROLAND  -  In The Opium Den 17. THE THANES  -  Days Go Slowly By 18. THEE HYPNOTICS   -  Justice In Freedom (12" Version) ...

Edinburgh Rocks – The Capital's Music Scene in the 1950s and Early 1960s

Edinburgh has always been a vintage city. Yet, for youngsters growing up in the shadow of World War Two as well as a pervading air of tight-lipped Calvinism, they were dreich times indeed. The founding of the Edinburgh International Festival in 1947 and the subsequent Fringe it spawned may have livened up the city for a couple of weeks in August as long as you were fans of theatre, opera and classical music, but the pubs still shut early, and on Sundays weren't open at all. But Edinburgh too has always had a flipside beyond such official channels, and, in a twitch-hipped expression of the sort of cultural duality Robert Louis Stevenson recognised in his novel, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, a vibrant dance-hall scene grew up across the city. Audiences flocked to emporiums such as the Cavendish in Tollcross, the Eldorado in Leith, The Plaza in Morningside and, most glamorous of all due to its revolving stage, the Palais in Fountainbridge. Here the likes of Joe Loss and Ted Heath broug...

Carla Lane – The Liver Birds, Mersey Beat and Counter Cultural Performance Poetry

Last week's sad passing of TV sit-com writer Carla Lane aged 87 marks another nail in the coffin of what many regard as a golden era of TV comedy. It was an era rooted in overly-bright living room sets where everyday plays for today were acted out in front of a live audience in a way that happens differently today. If Lane had been starting out now, chances are that the middlebrow melancholy of Butterflies, in which over four series between 1978 and 1983, Wendy Craig's suburban housewife Ria flirted with the idea of committing adultery with successful businessman Leonard, would have been filmed without a laughter track and billed as a dramady. Lane's finest half-hour highlighted a confused, quietly desperate and utterly British response to the new freedoms afforded women over the previous decade as they trickled down the class system in the most genteel of ways. This may have been drawn from Lane's own not-quite free-spirited quest for adventure as she moved through h...