Making Space
Theatre, the myths of poverty, and the value of making space.
A longer gap than I would have liked from my last Substack. I'm knee deep in term time and long days are the norm.
I've been to the theatre two nights in a row, and both shows left me with different reflections.
LONG DAY’S JOURNEY INTO NIGHT – Wyndham’s Theatre
A play from another era, long and dense with impeccable psychology, even if we have different terminology now (grief, post-natal depression, addiction.) What it left me reflecting on was the myths we tell ourselves about poverty and deprivation
My grandad would come back drunk and late from the pub, hit my granny and throw her and my uncle, a child, out on the streets of Glasgow, which they would wander the early hours of the morning. Sometimes granny could convince a friend or neighbour to let them let her and my uncle sleep on the living room floor, but as time went on, they said no, stopped answering the door. After all, if it kept happening, she must have done something to deserve it.
In Long Day’s Journey, a lot of the characters struggle with the myth that if you grow up in poverty or deprivation, it somehow hardens you, burnishes you. Most have to confront the reality that it can leave you with wounds. Addiction, sorrow. An inability to find purpose or meaning in life.
.
Growing up in food poverty is supposed to make you appreciative of what you have. In reality, like with my uncle, the spectre of hunger never leaves you, and you're constantly seeking the bargain (like the patriarch in Long Day’s Journey), winding up with cupboards full to the brim of non- perishable food.
My present-day dramaturg, playwriting teacher brain can see that Long Day had a lot of repetition in the dialogue. In reality, being tormented by repetitive thoughts, stuck in thought cycles, unable to move past old ills, slights and disappointments, is depressingly a large part of being alive.
Theres a certain amount of expectation the comes with growing up with nothing, the idea that it’s not enough to function, you must be brilliant, you must blaze brightly. Often, you're left bereft, full of maladjustments, internalising contradictions and cognitive dissonances that are exhausting to try and understand and move forward from.
THE COMEUPPANCE – Almeida Theatre
I went to see this with a group of my playwriting students, from all over the world, of varying ages. A group of friends from the US celebrating their 20-year high school reunion post pandemic.
I'm close in age to these characters, and though not quite as bleak, a lot of their concerns resonated with me. The fear that your life is small, that from now on the doors are closing for you. I felt for their disappointment, but surprised myself that I didn't share it. Maybe I felt that while I've been humbled at times by grief and the human body, there is still more to look forward to and hope for.
My purpose is not to criticise these plays, I think theatre works best when you reflect on your own life. That of course, requires a lot of care and attention as an audience member. Requires making space in your busy days for that time. I think it’s time and space worth making. Not every show is going to change your life, sometimes they just quietly reaffirm the good.