“Would you love me more if I left you…?”
Once upon a time, in his phone book-sized opus Infinite Jest, the late great David Foster Wallace described clinical depression as “the Great White Shark of pain,” “a level of psychic pain wholly incompatible with human life as we know it,” a “nausea of the cells and soul,” a sort of “double bind in which any/all of the alternatives we associate with human agency — sitting or standing, doing or resting, speaking or keeping silent, living or dying — are not just unpleasant but literally horrible,” a radical loneliness in which “everything is part of the problem, and there is no solution.”
Wallace’s suicide in 2008 did not, to the best of our knowledge, stem from the spectre of some monstrous and insurmountable early trauma. Nor did he live a life which, on the surface, anyone would feel compelled to extricate themselves from. He had friends, a wife, a successful and fulfilling career: an existence worth holding on to. Yet, in the end, none of those things mattered. His curse was an inability to find joy in the world around him, to treat each day not as a gift, but as a trial. His depression- a heightened form of that which quietly stalks so many thousands, perhaps millions, of others around the world- acted like a shard of glass in the mind: out of place, colourless, inexplicable but wholly and devastatingly real.
So goes the plight of Anna (Sara Joyce), the drowning protagonist of Pillowtalk Theatre’s latest production Anna in Between. Hers is a life of vignettes, of stray memories bled together in a coma dream. Having taken an overdose of sleeping tablets, Anna’s mind attempts to piece together the reasons why. Why was everything so difficult? Why was she so afraid? Why did it become so impossible to live in the world? Artistic Director Rosemary McKenna has described the production as “a play with songs” rather than a musical. This is probably a more crucial distinction than it would appear on first glance. The songs- impressively scored in silhouette by a trio of musicians, led by composer Jane Deasy, behind a curtain in the centre of the stage- serve a stylistic purpose intrinsic to the slippery subject matter: they give voice to what Anna is unable to say.
In order for this girl’s pain to remain incomprehensible, to resist easy diagnosis, her day-to-day life and the events which shaped her childhood and adolescence need to be generic, banal even. Anna’s existence must be so ordinary that even she herself cannot ascribe motive to her own slow suicide. But how do you build a play around this notion? How can you expect an audience to understand, much less be entertained by, a menace that has no face, no name, no origins? Through song, of course. This difficult task of dramatising a form of depression which, however common to the human condition, has no Traumatic Event foundation for us to stand upon, no meat to sink our teeth into, is ably met by an unconventional, lyrical structure. Songs like the opening number ‘Something Must Have Happened’- in which a mouthy pack of hairdressers transform into a sinister, accusatory chorus- spill from Anna’s head when the stresses of everyday life become too great. In stark contrast to the mumbles, fumbles and sighs of the outside world as it really is, these song and dance routines are choreographed chaos- the garish projections of what Anna sees as her friends and family try in vain to reach her.
“You took another twelve and you really felt it kicking in…”
While the play is episodic in structure, with over a dozen breathless mini scenes playing out backwards and forwards in time over the course of an hour and a half, its main strength lies in the kinetic musical outbursts that drive Anna closer and closer to the edge. The supporting players all get their chance to shine at different points throughout this odyssey, morphing from trusted kin to abrasive caricatures at a moment’s notice. There is a lovely childhood scene involving a tin can telephone in which Anna’s brother (Gerard Adlum) blends heart and humour to genuinely touching effect. Camille Lucy Ross and Peter Corboy both shine in multiple roles, including elaborate comedic incarnations as a science teacher presiding over a pyramid of ADD teens, and a delightfully nasal, blue cocktail-gulping psychiatrist, respectively.
When these snippets work- and for the most part, they do- they hit like waves of sorrow crashing and rippling over the audience. For a play that visualises such a dark, and seemingly inescapable, psychological descent, there is also a pretty rich vein of black humour running through Anna. Which is not to say that the overall production couldn’t do with some tightening. There are a couple of middle scenes that seem superfluous and one or two others which outrun their humorous beginnings, causing a bit of a lag in intensity. However, this is not a complaint which can be levelled at any of the wonderful musical moments that buttress the drama. Each one colourfully costumed, eerily lit, and dripping with raw tonal emotion.
The ending in particular- in which the backdrop tears itself apart, and seemingly unconnected props from earlier scenes come together to create a devastating final picture- is a transfixing blend of the show’s best qualities
“When the memories fade away, that will be the end of your days…”
As this country’s ever-climbing suicide statistics sadly suggest, that Great White Shark of pain may forever remain an uncatchable beast. Yet through bold, innovative productions like this one we are at least afforded a frightening glimpse of what can lie beneath the surface. Its preview on the evening of World Suicide Prevention Day a reminder, if one were necessary, that these tragic ends are not simply the preserve of fiction.
Venue: Players Theatre, Trinity College (as part of ABSOLUT Fringe 2012)
Dates: September 11th- 15th
Tickets: 13 Euro/11 Euro
Booking Info: http://www.fringefest.com/
Elsewhere…
“There is a great sense of theatricality, and the kaleidoscope of scenes provides lots of laughter throughout….4/5 stars.”
- Sinéad Finegan, Entertainment.ie
“A gorgeous, emotional, touching and imaginative play…” -Darragh Doyle, WordIrish
Interview with Pillowtalk Theatre producer Matthew Smyth: http://soundcloud.com/darraghdoyle/anna-in-between-at-absolut