Some theatres normally produce unblemished productions where
the subjects are particularly stimulating, but there are occasions when a
performance in that specific venue is exceedingly dull and un-compelling. The
Hampstead Theatre’s current production of Hugh Whitemore’s, ‘Stevie’ did not
live up to the high expectations that I’d expect from this space, moreover, the
performances lacked rigour.
‘Stevie’, which was presented as part of last year’s
Chichester Festival Theatre’s season carries us in a certain point of the life
of writer and poet, Stevie Smith where she is at present living with her Aunt in
Palmers Green, London. At the moment, she is in the process of writing a piece
of poetry that will soon make her monumentally famous, as well as, her
employment status is not what she desires as she regularly commutes to and from
her monotonous job as a secretary at a publishing company. Stevie Smith’s childhood was not exactly the
best as she became infect with tuberculosis, and this has aided some of the
content within her poetry. Her Aunt, an eccentric and funny woman does not
value her nieces work as she doesn’t understand the meaning behind them. Additionally, she has a huge craving to Battenberg
cake and cups of tea, however, the relationship between Stevie and Aunt is
quite strong as her Aunt is like her adoptive mother. When her Aunt requires
urgent care and assistance as she becomes forgetful and incapable of retaining
her independence, Stevie decides to resign from the publishing company and take
on the responsibility of full-time career whist continuing to write her poetry.
Stevie does not want to be married with a husband as she thinks she will be
incompetent of being a doting wife to somebody, and over the course of the show,
men come and go in her life and when she’s life her Aunt’s house in her will,
there is a sense of relaxation when she is on her own she writes her poetry at
all periods of the day. When she learns of her depression, her slight vulnerability
drives her into a state of anguish and she commits suicide and it’s sad to know
that she’ll never learn of how famous she became. Whitehouse’s narrative is
incredibly sluggish as the pace and flow of a play about Stevie Smith’s life
was not that absorbing and I cannot fathom why he wrote a play about the poet
in question.
One found the performances by the company of, ‘Stevie’ were
somewhat diverting as they slightly save this dwindling play where the dialogue
is not that enthralling. Zoe Wannermaker is to some degree tremendous as
central character, Stevie; chiefly when you see how the life of a writer can be
enormously tough to obtain some recognition and position within the art form,
and I know how that feels. Lynda Baron is fairly whimsical as Stevie’s quirky
Aunt; mainly within the comic elements when she becomes confused by what is
physically going on and her love for cups of tea and slices of cake reminds you
of an aunt you’d spend afternoon tea with. Chris Larkin is satisfactory as the
Narrator/Man; exclusively when he endeavours to piece all scenes together to
show how Stevie Smith’s life had been a mixture of highs and lows, but on the
whole a lot of low points.
Christopher Morahan’s direction is disappointing here as he
has not interconnected the excitement that there should have been infused within
the show and the representation of Stevie Smith’s depression was not thoroughly
mentioned and her childhood traumas were missing here. Simon Higlett’s designs
were pretty impressive as were are transported to the life of writer and poet
Stevie Smith who found fame after her death, furthermore, the attention to
detail of the plush Palmers Green house was nice to see. Overall, the
experience of, ‘Stevie’ was vastly boring and I could have easily left after
the first act.