Audra McDonald in “Lady Day at Emerson’s Bar & Grill”: A Once In A Lifetime Performance

It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is The Son, playing at London’s Duke of York’s Theatre until Nov. 2.

As my girl Tahani says in Season One of The Best Show, “As the Brits say, do your best to hide your sadness.” I thought this was supposed to be a joke, but I’ve seen the British parenting styles of the ‘chin-up’ and the ‘be brave and soldier on’ and the ‘keep calm and carry on’ varieties practiced too often in UK culture to brush it off. These terrible ways to parent are on full, stunning display in the play The Son. Sure, it’s a French play by Florian Zeller but I guess the French are like that too (I know I know #notallFrench/#notallBrits), and Christopher Hampton’s translation is a gripping, excruciatingly frustrating and effective teardown of these types of horrible parents and the inexcusable disservice they do their children.

It’s also so, so British in the characters’ ignorance of mental illness, both in not understanding it and in flat out ignoring it; we get both fun treatments of the serious problem. In The Son, Pierre and Anna are recently divorced, and their teenage son Nicolas is not doing well. Sure, a lot of his unhappiness is from the divorce, and the fact that Pierre moved in with the other woman, Sofia, and their new baby. That’s rough for anyone. But Nicolas’s problems are not just teenage angst or misery at the disintegration of his family. His issues are deeper rooted, not an inability to handle the divorce but an inability to handle life (and he says that! repeatedly!), one that is so obviously a serious mental illness.

It’s understandable that Pierre and Anna would want to assume the best and try to help their son be happy in breezy ways. But their ease in ignoring an enormous problem is unforgivable. When someone skips school for a few weeks, even a month, you yell at them. When someone skips school for three months and has nervous breakdowns at the thought of going back, or doing really anything, you need a professional. When you can’t even count the scars, healing and newly bleeding, on your son’s arm because there are just too many, you don’t yell at him that he needs to stop that. Well, Pierre does, because he’s a bad father. If there ever existed a clearer sign that you need to take your son to a doctor, I don’t know what it is. The fact that only one parent mentions professional help literally MONTHS into his serious depression is the most shocking part of this show, which, if you’ve seen it, says a lot. And that paltry attempt went something like this: Pierre (yelling): “Well if you won’t talk to me about it, do you want to talk to…someone else?” (HE MEANS A DOCTOR! YAYYY FINALLY, I THOUGHT!) Nicolas: “No.” Pierre: “Okay.” I LITERALLY ALMOST STORMED THE STAGE. And these are well-to-do people; it’s not that they couldn’t afford or ‘don’t do’ doctors. If you have a huge grand piano in your shiny white flat, you can afford a consultation.

Pierre’s not the only shittastic adult onstage. Anna, this poor kid’s mother, is completely unaware of what’s needed as well. At one point, after moving in with his father, Nicolas thinks maybe he should move back in with mom. He shyly asks his own mother if that would be okay. And instead of shouting ‘yes of course!’ or giving her clearly suffering son a hug, Anna responds with “Oh I thought you were getting on well at your father’s?” and “what happened to make you want to move?” SHITTASTIC. And Sofia might be the worst of all (I mean she’s not but they all are?), worrying about what Nicolas’s moving in with her new fam means for her upcoming holiday to Italy. And, of course, never saying that he needs a g-d doctor. You know it’s going to be tragic because of their stupidity, and the entire ending + Next to Normal-like coda was all so wrenching I could hear my heart beating. I may have been furious the entire show, but that’s not boring, and this was some effective theatre.

Saying they were oblivious and saying his need for real help was obvious feels so insufficient to describe this situation. It was like an elephant was on that stage sitting on top of Nicolas and we’re all sitting there pointing to it and shouting ‘there’s an elephant!’ and Nicolas is like ‘I feel like there’s an elephant on me’ and the adults are telling Nicolas he should really sit up straighter.

And Nicolas, hoo boy. Laurie Kynaston’s performance is gutting. I felt tormented watching this poor boy go through this experience with no real lifelines available to him. He full inhabits this character and I never once considered him outside the character.

That all the adults were so inept, so oblivious to what was needed, was frustrating, yes, beyond belief, but also so effective in showing how society (and specific anti-mental-health cultural norms) continuously fails victims. The only problem I have is…I don’t know if all this was Zeller’s aim, to show that the parents failed here. I hope it was, because it’s obvious. But if his goal was for this play to simply remark on how difficult mental illness is and how ‘we don’t know where it comes from’, then I’m lost, because the whole point of understanding mental illness is that it doesn’t ‘come from’ an easy excuse, it’s a medical condition with scientific and not social roots and needs a doctor just as cancer does. I’m going to believe Zeller intended to give his audiences credit for knowing this and that we’re all on the same page, but given that the people in my audience were likely parents of the styles mentioned at the start, I worry that they didn’t learn the right lesson.

INFORMATION

The show is 1 hour 45 minutes with no interval. It feels like a lifetime but not in a bad way. Just bring water because you will dehydrate from sweating out all the anxiety.

The Duke of York’s Theatre (I hate the apostrophe) has the Royal Circle (the mezzanine) at street level; the stalls are downstairs. The circle is pretty small, maybe 8 rows? The ladies room is right outside the House Right circle door.

TodayTix has rush tickets for £15, which is an insane value for this very good play, especially if measured in cardiovascular activity.

It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is Emilia, at London’s Vaudeville Theatre.

Who was the ‘dark lady’ that Shakespeare wrote sonnets about? Was she some strumpet, some rampallian? Bite your tongue, peasant! The new play Emilia follows the suggestion of editor A.L. Rowse that this mysterious figure in Billy Shakes’ sonnets was actually Emilia Bassano, one of the first female poets in England to have her works printed. And I’m all for this. Although unlikely, it’s fun to imagine that these two contemporary poets not only knew each other, but once upon a time loved each other, and that maybe Billy owes some of his most famous words to her. Maybe she was so talented that Shakey stole some of her words and made them famous, without attribution, without permission, without even thanking her. That’s the route of the new play Emilia, newly transferred to the West End from the Globe, in imagining this mysterious figure as one who, in a more reasonable time, could have been the famous playwright everyone knows.

We meet Emilia first as an older woman reading what has been written about her and scoffing at it. She’s finally reclaiming her story and telling us the truth – at least some of the truth; what we know about her real life is interspersed with the imagined interactions with Shakespeare, with some ‘mostly likely’ scenarios, such as who her patronesses were, mixed in too. To tell the story, three actresses portray Emilia at different stages in her life: first, a captivating Saffron Coomber as the vibrant young lady with all the world’s gumption; second, an affecting Adelle Leonce as the wiser and still strong woman she became; and third, back to Clare Perkins as the powerful older incarnation of the lady that wouldn’t stop fighting for her voice to be heard.

Throughout all the efforts to keep her in the ‘proper’ path – including sending her away to be raised in the court – Emilia wrote and lived on her own terms as much as possible in a society that didn’t let women do anything on their own terms. By presenting virtually her entire life and every move she made to stay true to herself and her writing, the play becomes an epic in female empowerment. It’s sometimes too focused on being seen as such, but overall it achieves the goal. With these sorts of messages, it’s easy, and common, for the creatives to hit audiences over the head with their morality lessons (and point to the modern day relevance in a too obvious ‘see what I did there!’ kind of way) when letting the work stand on its own feet would accomplish a more powerful result, yet despite falling into this common trap a few times, it doesn’t take away from the truly powerful result.

As a young lady, Emilia became the mistress of Baron Henry Carey, an arrangement that let her focus on her writing while meeting the most influential patrons of the arts. It’s in this detail that the play sees her meet fellow poet William Shakespeare, a peer who at first seems like the only one who gets her but who, like all men, disappoints as he deems her writing simply a hobby. The use of Shakespeare, and the portrayal, was brilliant. When the two poets’ relationship sours over his theft of her words, they come to a head in the extraordinary, dynamic climax of the first act, with the cast spread all over the theatre shouting and clashing. Luckily for me, Shakespeare barged into my box to do his shouting from there, and he hilariously said to me “I’m so sorry madam, you can have a free ticket for the next play”. The scene was incredibly staged and directed, with everything chaotic but organized perfectly. I wish the direction remained more like that throughout, instead of sometimes getting lost in keeping aspects modern, such as music and dance. Those attempts (I think someone dapped) read as more of a joke than a way to make any sort of commentary.

The dark turn of the second act makes complete sense and is necessary, but it almost feels surprising, which it shouldn’t considering how truthful it is. Perhaps it’s because all the girl-power messages are finally starkly shown to not mean much when you’re in a society that isn’t listening. Perhaps it’s partly because of the modern aspects used as jokes and the girl-power applause breaks that don’t work as well as the play itself. More so at the end, the morality lessons threaten to get lost in heavy-handed presentation. When big statements are made about men and women that still apply, they tend to elicit raucous applause, which is fine, if it’s warranted. Too often, there were dramatic statements that seemed present for that very reason, instead of serving the story. There’s a fine line between important and indulgent, and a few times it felt like the latter (especially when the audience erupted after one character asks a male character why he was explaining stuff she already knew to her). Maybe it’s just that audiences are too eager to be a part of things. But it all comes together at the end, with the oldest Emilia giving a fourth-wall breaking speech that was one of the most powerful things I’ve ever seen. It nearly erases any flaws of the preceding show, and serves to reinforce that overall, this is a potent, impressive work.

The cast of all women turns the Shakespearean tradition of men playing women on its head while also happily reminding me of RBG saying “when there are 9”. In defense of the all-male casts that still proliferate while all-women casts are usually nowhere to be found (or only for shows with all-female characters), I’ve heard people say “well it’s funny when men play women! Women playing men is not funny at all.” This show is like CHECK AND MATE, MUFUCKA. Shakespeare (Charity Wakefield (omg you’re more British than Shakespeare!)) was so incredibly pitch-perfect and hysterical, I was almost embarrassed at how much I was laughing. It was a hilarious character, like Shakey from Something Rotten! but less mean in his humor. Amanda Wilkin as Emilia’s goofball husband Alfonso was also nonstop hysterical with her gallivanting around the stage and ridiculous moments, especially when she played an era-appropriate song on the recorder in a baby’s face. And what made me laugh harder than anything was when one of the older ladies of the ensemble, briefly played a duke who was railing against women speaking or writing. The audience booed and hissed, which made me super mad because audiences are ridiculous here, but the actress completely made the show by shouting back, ‘excuse me this isn’t PANTO SEASON.’ It was THE BEST. And despite most of the ensemble switching in and out of various roles, they reached such emotional depth with the dramatic turns of the plot that you almost felt guilty for laughing in a previous scene. Everyone is wonderful, and even though it’s all women, the diversity of the cast was stellar. A range of ethnicities, ages, abilities, bodies, with old ladies playing young, and even one deaf actress. This is how 99% of casts should be. And if all new plays were as strong as this one, I would be thrilled.

INFORMATION

Emilia is playing the Vaudeville Theatre until June 15. It runs 2 hours 30 minutes.