REVIEW: Soulpepper’s Old Times casts a tense, haunting spell
iPhoto caption: Jenny Young in 'Old Times.' Photo by Dahlia Katz.
Directed by Peter Pasyk, Old Times at Soulpepper Theatre sustains 75 minutes of simmering tension. This production promises a revelatory experience for Harold Pinter veterans and novices alike, expertly deploying the playwright’s iconic device — silence.
It’s twilight. Sipping coffee in a stylish living room, somewhere in the English countryside, old friends reminisce. Kate (Anita Majumdar) and Deeley (Christopher Morris) are a married couple. Kate and Anna (Jenny Young) haven’t seen each other in twenty years.
At first, conversation rolls out in and out like the sea. Anna chatters about girlhood; her recollections are met with unease from Deeley and Kate. I wonder: Do any of these people even know one another? As the evening progresses, the subtle resonances of the characters’ relationships intensify. Longing and resentment and jealousy have accumulated over the years. Currents of sexual energy travel between the three. Sometimes the conversation stops, and we’re left in complete silence. It’s so quiet that the audience has to breathe softly, so as not to be heard. This was my first time experiencing Pinter’s famous silences on stage. It felt intimate and vulnerable.
Kate is the most reticent of the three characters. While Anna and Deeley engage in power play (who gets the armchair? Whose life is better? Who knows Katey best?) Kate says little, and is difficult to pin down. In the first half of the play, Young and Morris achieve present and natural performances in contrast to Majumdar’s detachment, bringing Pinter’s challenging poetics to life.
I will not spoil the second act (without an intermission, the play’s two halves are divided by a brief blackout). But I will say Majumdar delivers a shocking and dynamic performance that I’m still thinking about.
In his director’s note, Pasyk addresses Pinter’s notoriously enigmatic style, commending the British playwright for trusting his audience. “The mysteries within his plays rely on our intelligence and intuition,” Pasyk explains. Reflecting on this note after the show, I initially thought Pinter should trust me less. I can’t say for sure what happens in this play. Time wraps around itself, creating uncertainty about what’s being repeated and what’s happening for the very first time. But I also don’t wish things were clearer — in fact, Pasyk’s production has motivated me to explore more of Pinter’s work.
Pasyk approaches his production without any trace of anxiety about settling the play’s overall meaning. His focus seems to be on crafting the details. Each beat takes the time it needs. Somehow, this doesn’t stall the play’s urgency to recover what has been lost: not the past, exactly, but the person you once were.
Indeed, one question Old Times asks — I think — is how much of yourself resides in other people. In the first few minutes, Deeley tells Kate he’ll be watching her, to see if Anna’s the same person. “You think you’ll find that out through me?” Kate asks. “Definitely,” Deeley replies. The cast embodies this concept throughout the play by reflecting an acute physical awareness of one another.
To that point, the actors’ movements, coached by Kelly McEvenue, a practitioner of Alexander Technique, are deceptively simple — pouring coffee, sitting, standing. Yet their physicality is precise, like dancers, augmenting the many silences and contributing to the play’s overall intensity. (I must say, this is not true of the continuous smoking. It’s not the actors’ faults — it’s the fake cigarettes. They make the smoking look unnatural, and not in a Lynchian way, as with the rest of the play.)
Ultimately, this understated production of Pinter’s classic seeps under your skin. In addition to the performances, part of what works so well is the cultivation of atmosphere through set and lighting design (by Snezana Pesic and Imogen Wilson respectively). A large window runs along the back wall of the set, through which you can see the sky and the sea. As night falls, the sky darkens, and the actors’ reflections are visible in the window. Later the curtains are closed, creating a spectral ambience. The lighting responds to the emotional life of the play, starting with a comforting yellow, then taking on elements of blue and red, and sometimes deep gold. The overall effect is stomach-churning nostalgia. Fitting, because in Old Times the past is not the past.
So, why Old Times now? The play certainly captures a sense of unreality that feels heightened at this moment, given the state of the world. But the production also resists any direct claim to currency. It feels appropriately outside of time.
Last week the heat in Toronto was awful. The rain kept coming, bizarrely, while the sun was shining. Even at night, which is getting earlier and earlier, the heat remained. Old Times is a perfect August play, I think, because every recent conversation I’ve had includes the observation that summer is moving too quickly. That we’ve arrived at the end too soon.
Old Times runs at Soulpepper Theatre until September 7. Tickets are available here.
Intermission reviews are independent and unrelated to Intermission’s partnered content. Learn more about Intermission’s partnership model here.
Ferron Delcy
Ferron Delcy is pursuing her PhD in early modern literature at the University of Toronto. In 2024, Ferron participated in the New Young Reviewers program facilitated by Toronto Fringe and Intermission. She is a big fan of ghost stories, fog machines, and weird metaphors.
LEARN MORE
iPhoto caption: William Ellis and members of the company of 'The Herald. Photo by Albert Hoang.
REVIEW: Jill Connell’s The Herald has a lot to say about potential
There’s so much to love about this smart, strange, and achingly lyrical exploration of labour and purpose. Dramaturgical intentionality falters, however, in the details.
iPhoto caption: Liisa Repo-Martell and Maev Beaty in 'You, Always.' Photo by Dahlia Katz.
REVIEW: In You, Always at Canadian Stage, playfulness meets unabashed emotional vulnerability
This big-hearted play will steal your favourite going-out shirt, holler your crush’s name at full volume, and then accost you with a bear hug — all the while harboring a deep well of love and resentment.
iPhoto caption: Photo courtesy of Minmar Gaslight.
REVIEW: A Question of Character examines the psychology of a filmmaker who created Nazi propaganda
The greatest strength of A Question of Character, now playing at the Aki Studio, is that its fundamental questions manifest as an active process. Rather than conveying a pre-packaged conclusion, the production undertakes a genuine attempt to work through Leni Riefenstahl's contradictions while weighing the payoffs of revenge.
iPhoto caption: Dwain Murphy and Virgilia Griffith in 'a profoundly affectionate, passionate devotion to someone
(-noun).' Photo by Jae Yang.
REVIEW: Obsidian and Tarragon co-production reflects on the inadequacy of language
a profoundly affectionate, passionate devotion to someone (-noun): the title says it all, offering a definition for an absent word. The thing is the thing unsaid. For the play’s three couples, language falls short: beautifully, tragically, sublimely.
iPhoto caption: The company of 'CHILD-ish.' Photo by Jae Yang.
REVIEW: Tarragon’s CHILD-ish takes a hopeful and hilarious look at life through kids’ eyes
It’s a giggly good time, if a pinch oversweet.
iPhoto caption: Waseem Alzer in 'The Green Line'. Photo by Jeremy Mimnagh.
REVIEW: The Green Line unspools an exquisitely written narrative of love and loss in Beirut
Playwright-director Makram Ayache’s The Green Line opens by describing this “no-man’s land” as an imaginary place — a political concept that materialized in the vegetation that reclaimed the land. For Ayache, the Green Line becomes a site of reckoning, remembrance, and restitution.
Comments