13/12/2017
Betrayal Theatrecraft Review
Reviewed by Alan Dilnot – November 16, 2017
Theatrecraft published by The Victorian Drama League. (December 2017—Page 22)
In this production of Pinter’s Betrayal we were given a simple set, with one area down-stage to serve as a restaurant or café or pub, and another area curtained off, supposedly functioning as a kitchen or reception room. The downstage area hosted converse within homes. Dominating up-stage, although often in half-light, was a double bed, used only once as such but present to the minds of the audience and to the three main actors as the scene for the central betrayal, never to be forgotten. Insofar as Pinter’s stage directions do not call for the bed to be in place throughout, this was a directorial decision and to be commended as such.
The ordering of the scenes of the play is unusual and as demanded by Pinter. They are neither in chronological order nor exactly in reverse chronology. Necessarily, the late-in-time scenes coming first enabled us to view the beginnings of the relationship between the three main characters in quite a different way. The first-in-time scene shows the beginning of the adulterous relationship between Emma and Jerry, actually in the marital bedroom of Emma and Robert, and taking place while a party is going on in the next room. This arrangement of the scenes forces us to question the assertions and the assumptions that we are invited to rely on in Scene 1, when the affair is over, and Emma and Jerry are meeting again after two years have passed. It makes us question their reliability as witnesses and increases our perception that they are deceivers and self-deceivers. Their relationship was once, they had thought, a shared and deep passionate love; now each wonders if there is anything that can be dwelt upon as a valued memory.
In such a play actors have to be able to maintain a front in conversation, and behind that front to keep their thoughts concealed from each other while at the same time allowing the audience to enter their thinking. It is a difficult task, but these three actors managed it. Eleni Miller as Emma had perfect control over her features. There are stretches in the play when one could regard her as a victim, a woman who weakly succumbs to the romantic flattery offered her by Jerry. Yet plenty of evidence emerges that she has run the romance to feed her own ego, and that she is in a stronger position in 1977 and has more self-esteem than when she was newly-married in 1968. Eleni was able to be soft and pliant and, equally, firm and even ruthless.
Jerry could be regarded as completely self-duplicitous, wishing to be both a romantic lover and a solid family man. Outright pure selfishness, however, will never succeed, and Tim Constantine expertly purveyed considerable charm and a kind of innocence that made him blind to his own arrogance and insensitivity.
Both Jerry and Emma invested something in their love nest, Jerry putting up the rent money and Emma buying table cloths and so on to try to make the place a home. In a sense, both were performing a charade, an interlude away from the centres of their lives, and Eleni and Tim were able to convey this degree of inauthenticity in their relationship.
Emma’s husband, Robert, played by Michael Fenemore, showed more character development than the other two. In the second scene (his first) he wore heavy black-rimmed glasses, and these constituted an extra mask to obscure his features. Without his glasses, in the later (i.e. earlier) scenes, he seemed more candid and more in command. His part in the great scene with Emma in the hotel bedroom in Venice was superbly paced, as he digested Emma’s revelation that she and Jerry had been lovers for five years. Robert was more self-aware than the other two, more analytical and more perceptive, and more alert to the feelings of others, though that did not make him more compassionate.
There were very strong suggestions that Robert and Jerry were as interested in each other as they were in Emma, and this helped to explain that while they were extremely competitive they never came to blows, even after Jerry’s betrayal of Robert became patently clear.
This was not because Robert was incapable of violence, for by his own account he had more than once hit Emma. Thus both Tim and
Michael were able to hint at the complex sexuality so common in
Pinter’s men, while Eleni had something of the predatory goddess figure that occurs amongst Pinter’s women.
A fourth character, a waiter, was nicely played by Matthew Laurence. Strictly speaking the play doesn’t need the waiter in Scene 7, but in addition to supplying some comic relief the waiter brought out some character traits in Robert and Jerry.
In earlier plays Pinter often left an unresolved mystery to perplex the audience. This is not the case in Betrayal, because each scene strips another cover off the motivations of the central characters. Nevertheless, there are some mysteries at the margin of the play. Three important characters—Casey, Judith and Spinks— never appear. Jerry’s wife Judith almost certainly knows about Jerry’s affair. Why does she not react—is she having an affair of her own? Robert and Jerry are both absorbed by the writer Casey. Is
Emma also more than interested in him? And Spinks too? The central trio made us speculate on these possibilities.
Pinter is famous for inserting pauses into his dialogue. Here the device was used sparingly, and in my view the pace of the action, and the ability of each member of the cast to emphasise exactly the right word in a speech was exemplary.
The set was simple but eloquent, and the costumes were adapted to the changing periods. Pinter is not ‘done’ in Melbourne as often as one would wish, and we are lucky to have had a firstclass production of Betrayal, with first-class actors.