I caught this sell-out show at the Almeida Theatre last weekend after the traumatic finger amputation (see blog before this one).

 

Harold Pinter, eh? Nobel prize winner? I mean where was the man at? I had seen the play and read it years ago and it is an Emperor’s New Clothes kinda thing. There are some lovely set pieces, speeches that make you chuckle, but the plot is totally implausible and the central female character is just plain weird and arguably the author is not a misogynist, but just stupid about women. Well all the characters are weird actually, but not in a credible way. Of course Pinter’s dialogue sparkles and there are moments of pure poetry but as a piece of drama the thing just doesn’t hold together. I was so disappointed at the lack of insight. Nothing (and nobody) seemed adequately motivated.

 

Okay, so Pinter’s later work (like ‘Betrayal’) was a bit  more credible but why revive the load of self-indulgent tosh that is The Homecoming? Okay, a product of its time and shocking when it was first staged, but is that enough to justify another production?

 

Apparently the Nobel committee said of Harold Pinter that he ‘uncovers the precipice under everyday prattle and forces entry into oppression’s closed rooms’. Well I’d say the Noble committee need to consider unmixing their metaphors and HP needs to be re-evaluated. But maybe I am a philistine.

 

I realise I’m going out on a limb here, and audiences seem to be flocking to see it, but I had to have my little rant. Feel free to argue back in the comments section.