I Can’t Even Deal With: “Garage Sale Mystery” on TV

It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is Mites, running at the Tristan Bates Theatre at The Actors Centre

If I want my blood pressure to skyrocket, I imagine what it’s like when someone doesn’t believe me. You know that uncontrollable anxiety and frustration when you can’t convince someone that you’re telling the truth, or don’t know if they are? Man alive, the agita. (This is especially a big thing for me because when I feel that someone isn’t listening to or believing me, I start laughing uncontrollably which does…not help my case.) Women are taken advantage of all the time, dismissed as hysterical or crazy, have their experiences denied, gaslighted. This can, sadly, happen in intimate relationships, and women with mental health conditions are particularly at risk. The new play Mites by James Mannion explores this vulnerability, and the fact that I recommend Londoners check it out despite what it did for my agita speaks volumes about how provocative and interesting this show is. 

Also, there are dust mites.

Set in a very convincingly dirty and musty house that makes you feel itchy and also made me feverishly promise to clean my flat ASAP, Mites tells of Ruth (Claire Marie Hall), a lonely woman living on her country estate with her cat, Bartholomew (honestly a missed opportunity to pull a little Spaceballs and call him ‘Bartholomeow’) along with an infestation of the titular dust mites for company. Ruth’s loneliness doesn’t manifest as stereotypical depressive symptoms, but more manic and prone to flights of imagination (in a bad way). When Ken (George Howard), the pest controller, comes to help Ruth’s dust mite problem, Ken realizes this opportunity to swindle a weak lady and is all ‘hey it’s me ur husband.’ Ruth believes that he’s Kenneth, the husband who left her long ago (yet somehow is…decades younger than he should be by now), even though he’s clearly taking advantage of a susceptible (and rich) woman.

Ruth’s anthropomorphic cat Barthy (Richard Henderson) is a highlight, hilarious as the voice of reason trying to convince Ruth that Ken is a con man while enjoying his books. Yes, he’s an intellectual who’s well-read and speaks 9 languages, a source of some of the funniest parts. He had me laughing out loud at his remarks, like when he tells a newly invigorated Ruth that it’s a waste of time to clean the house and it’ll never be clean, and she says “well, you can’t fault me for trying!” To which Barthy replies, “yes I can, that’s literally what I’m doing.” LOVES IT. Of course, in a play like this, even Barthy the intellectual cat is not who he seems, which of course he isn’t I mean a cat doesn’t show up at your door and ask, ASK, if you want him to be your cat, but still, it was fun to pretend, evil bastard.

The first hour is packed with humor, but the darkness takes over as the vagueness of what’s actually real and what’s not, and who is really who, takes center stage. There’s an absurd interlude with a look at the lives of actual mites, which is so nuts that it’s amazing, but when we return to the humans it’s hard to know what’s really happening. Jarring voiceovers seem to start coming from nowhere, along with location changes that are compelling but hard to track. Confusion and vagueness like this can be powerful, especially in a play dealing with mental health issues, but it needs to be honed a bit more to harness that power. One character says the phrase “lost the plot” a few times and I remember thinking “well don’t point it out!”

In a play that deals with women being deceived, mental illness being manipulated, and hospitalization being threatened, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed and super agitated when you realize how it can reflect some people’s reality. So I appreciate the bits of agency given to Ruth as she attempts to take back her control, although I am still in a whirl trying to determine what was actually real. I’ll be thinking about this for days, I’m sure. And despite some wonkiness in the back half, that’s the sign of strong, interesting theatre.

INFORMATION

Mites is playing until October 26. Seating is unassigned, with about a dozen rows of about 10 seats across. These are approximations as I did not count seats; I am not weird. 

Evening shows start at 7:45pm, and they said it was an hour and a half (one act). When I turned my phone back on afterwards, it was 9:15pm. BraVO!

PEOPLE! Can you believe it? For the first time since March 14, 2020, when we saw Uncle Vanya in the West End and the guy behind me coughed a bunch and we realized ‘oh this is bad’ (the spectre of disease, not the play; the play was incredible) (and then I had covid – was it from him? we’ll never know (just kidding I know it was you asshole)), we were back at a LIVE FORKING SHOW in person in a theatre! Well not ‘in’ – our first show back wisely took place in an outdoor amphitheatre; we’re not crazy! Gimme that wind if I’m around other people! But wow, can you imagine how excited I am? I LOVE THE THEE UH TUHHH.

I wonder if the excitement of being back would have made me enjoy even a bad play, but we will never know because Official Return Show was quite an impressive little treat. ‘Adventures with the Painted People’, by David Greig, is a four-hander (you remember how I changed the terms to make them accurate?) that tells of a Roman officer named Lucius who gets kidnapped by Picts. It’s 2000 years ago and Romans have taken over, killed all the good Pictish men, ruined everything as invaders do for native peoples. When a group of Pictish boys find the stray Roman by the water, they knock him out and bring him to their tribe’s witch, Eithne, to be a sacrifice, naturally.

For someone being tied up in a witch’s ‘house of the dead’ which is really a cave of the dead which is much worse, Lucius never seems too angry or upset. Nicholas Karimi’s portrayal is really likeable, and you’re like aw I hope he doesn’t get sacrificed. He writes insubstantial poetry, but you can tell he feels more dreamy than the rigidity of a Roman officer’s life would normally allow. And that makes for a good pairing with Kirsty Stuart’s Eithne, the Pictish version of a manic pixie dream girl if ever there was one. (Manic pictish dream girl OH MY GOD.) She’s full of energy and conversations with spirits and flowery language, compared to the Roman’s straight lines. And yet, as she tells her captive, she wants his help to become Roman, so that she can implore the governor to work with her to implement peace instead of continued violence on her people. Maybe if he helps her, she won’t sacrifice him. Also if there’s a good pig she won’t need to.

In this early-AD Odd Couple, Eithne, witch of the salmon people who only tell stories by fire pit, learns how to read and write, learns about world history, learns about Roman life and laws. Lucius learns about the Pictish people, those that his mission has been to quash, and decides to write about this woman and her life. They both warm to each other. Over the weeks they study together in this cave, they become friends, and then they start to fall in love, obvs.

A love story between these two stark contrasts – one of straight lines, one of nature and spirits; one of the invaders vs. one of the oppressed natives – could easily have been as trite and schmaltzy (and annoying) as other attempts at heartfelt stories between colonizer and victim usually are. Although I feared that the final scene would be a bit like the U.S.-only ending of the 2005 Pride & Prejudice – which is superior, but too romantic for Brits apparently – this play managed to avoid all potential traps due to its strong writing delivering on a well-formed idea of what it wanted to accomplish. It did so with humor, great performances, and solid direction from Elizabeth Newman. I really enjoyed the set design and staging (I can’t find if Lizzie or someone else is responsible for the design), especially the circle of fire (erma erma) and the gorgeously done mosaic reveal (LOVED). The only thing I didn’t enjoy was that the little fire pit onstage blew all its smoke right in my face for a good hour as it died out, like no matter what the wind brought it right into my face, the face of the person in that audience who tolerates smoke the worst. My eyes are still burning two days later (they are like pumice, it’s not great). But that’s just me I’m weird. (See seating info below.)

Between the otherwise fresh air in Pitlochry and the lack of a stranger sitting right next to me (keep this up forever, maybe?), this returnship was about as nice as I could have hoped. Sure I got so nauseous on the winding Napoli-coastline-style drive that we had to stop so I could [redacted], but still, what a night. I highly recommend this show.

INFORMATION

The outdoor amphitheatre is up a windy hill, and although the main building and parking lot is a construction zone at present, the climb up and the amphi’s setting is beyond gorgeous. I need to talk to whoever is in charge of their gardening because um I need your help. Although the setting is lovely, the walk may be difficult for those who are less ambulatory.

Because the main building’s under construction and the shows are happening in this relatively small outdoor area at the top of a freaking hill, that means the toilets are unavailable. There is a portapotty up on the hill – one, for everyone. Luckily it never got too crowded (do Scottish people not pee??) but I was less than thrilled about having to use a porto three times (three is the bare minimum for me at the theatre, what fun I have). It was clean and whatever but I dreamt longingly of the endless immaculate newly refurbished stalls of Broadway’s Lyric Theatre, oh those were the days. Oh there are two bar setups up there as well. Nothing more UK than two spacious bar setups with like four staff members, but one toilet.

You have to wear masks everywhere except when you are seated, which seems a bit nonsensical since that’s when you are closest to other people and not walking around an incredibly spacious garden setting. That should really be rethought. Groups are sat so there’s a good few feet between them on each row, but it doesn’t stagger from row to row, meaning you have someone right behind and right in front of you. I guess that’s smarter than being surrounded on all diagonals? but because of it I wish they didn’t actively tell people they could take their masks off once seated.

The seating is open plan; an usher will seat you as you arrive. They sat us on the far aisle from where you enter, second row, so don’t sit there if you hate smoke. Although that was probably a unique occurrence from the universe just to fork with me so you’ll be fine.

‘Adventures of the Painted People’ plays at the Pitlochry Festival Theatre (in Perthshire, the most beautiful part of Scotland), until July 4, when I assume the closing performance will be marked with nonstop fireworks from your shitty neighbors. Just kidding, not in Scotland baby!