Wife - Kiln Theatre

This is such, such, such a special play. It’s hard to think of another time where a playwright laid out such a personal, powerful, passionate thesis for why plays matter, what legacy entails, and how events years ago matter now, must be revived, must be remembered. It’s a boldly personal, particular work – its focus is almost so specific it could have backfired – but by using his Doll’s House reappraisal as a jumping-off point, Samuel Adamson has written a profoundly important story – nay, manifesto – about the way art itself should be a jumping-off point, for us to see ourselves in allegory, see our strengths, understand our history, and fight for a better world.

I’m only a paragraph in and I’m already in tears. I really loved this play.

Through how four disparate generations find themselves repeatedly mirrored on stage, by the same damn long-dead text, Adamson mirrors the fascinating, angry LGBT Britain we’ve worked towards and continue to work towards; in his most contemporary story, Adamson acknowledges we all still have work to do. By using A Doll’s House, sometimes a lynchpin, sometimes merely as a scene-setter – not a traditional ‘gay play’ – Adamson asks us to look beyond the obvious veneer of a piece of art’s origin, and find our own opinion on the universality of art; great art with a kernel of truth remains powerful, because art with sympathy and art with purpose will always be relevant. It’s up to us, as viewers in difficult political times, to make this relevance mean something.

Brilliantly, this is both specifically about Nora, but more about inspiration. A small part of me wondered if this has the universal-est of universal appeals, or if you need investment in Ibsen – ultimately I think it works better if you agree how good A Doll’s House is, but only in the same way Stoppard works better if you agree on Shakespeare. In fact, this play’s specificity is what makes it so great – Adamson’s passion about A Doll’s House runs through every passionate line of dialogue; being about one specific play gives Adamson FOCUS on theatre’s timelessness, why reinterpretation works, why art chimes across history. Its specificity doesn’t limit its appeal; its specificity gives it its fire. And this is a fiery play.

Indhu Rubasingham’s production has a nice echo of her production of Red Velvet, which similarly used theatre-within-theatre to normalise the art form, and bring inherent theatricality to history and discursive theses. It works in letting a fab cast unleash their characters’ passions, and make this play-about-a-play leap off the stage. Especially in the 80s scenes, her choice of somewhat stereotypical gay music of the time, underscoring Joshua James’ exuberance over why this old Norwegian play could and should also be a gay classic, is a gentle and subtle way of implying that, perhaps, gay culture should be what we want it to be, not just what cliché has made it. Amidst a consistently stellar cast, the two performances that have left the profoundest impact are the two generations of Ivar: Joshua James’ young, over-confident livewire almost bursting into the audience with too much passion and too little self control, and Richard Cant as the older but paradoxically less wise man who needs to, like Nora, find himself.

(As an aside – I remember watching Joshua James and Seth Numrich one-up each other, subtly but brilliantly, in Fathers and Sons, treasuring every moment of two actors, potentially greats of their generation, using Brian Friel’s genius to egg each other on. He’s just bloody great)

Adamson’s play argues that we all have to close our own doors on our comfortable yet claustrophobic presents, and fight for a better future. The idea that LGBT history is filled with Noras is a beautiful way to look at global LGBT fights past, present and future. Wife argues that Nora, Ibsen and A Doll’s House are not mirrors or manifestos, but starting points – and if and when we see ourselves in Nora, it’s time to take her attitude into our lives. Wife is not just a great play – it’s a love letter to another great play, it’s an exploration of why great plays still matter, and a manifesto to bring great plays’ fights into our lives where we can, and must. It’s personal, heartfelt, inspiring, optimistic and beautiful.

Simply put, I adored this. I truly too feel inspired by it, but I also simply really, really, really adored this.

P.S. I’ve said before that A Doll’s House is still the show I hold dearest, but I don’t exaggerate when I say that, when one of the biggest decisions of my life presented itself, it was my memories of that show – Nora’s door slam – that made me make the push. When I say that that show changed my life, it did in truly profound ways. I’ve often wondered why that kid I was then found such a mirror in a century-old Norwegian woman, and here we are – a play exists exploring just that. The fact that this play exists – let alone tells its story so well – makes me very very happy. If I ever meet Samuel Adamson I’ll buy him a drink.

P.P.S. I haven’t been on the forum much in 2019 – the last six months have been impossibly busy, going to try and catch up before Christmas – but keeping half an eye on it, it was you guys who inspired me to fill a free evening with this. I’d not have known about it, nor risked it, without you. So thank you!

P.P.P.S. I know, this closed months ago, and likely won’t have a second life, but… The script is so good it’ll stand on its own terms so GO READ IT – you’ll miss the brilliant performances, but Adamson’s superb argument will shine through.  I hope it also inspires you too. And I don’t see much theatre these days and I really loved this just let me gush.