It's difficult to imagine two more different enterprises than Douglas Hodge's most recent ventures. Having handed over the role of transvestite Albin in the stillrunning La Cage aux Folles (for which he won an Olivier award), he's now turned his hand to directing one of Athol Fugard's more obscure plays (written in 1975), a highly allegorical work set in a nameless country and, on the surface at least, devoid of the South African playwright's usual political concerns.
Disillusioned by life in the city, Dimetos, a brilliant engineer, has exiled himself from the city where he made his reputation and, with his faithful housekeeper Sophia and pubescent niece Lydia, retreated to a remote village, convincing himself he can be of as much use to the local people as he was to the townsfolk. The arrival of an eager young man intent on luring him back to solve their problems upsets the equilibrium of their semi-isolated existence and brings tothe fore emotions which, until then, had simmered, unacknowledged.
Hints of Dimetos's covert passion are there right from the start, as Holliday Grainger's glowing Lydia is lowered, stripped to her undergarments, to rescue a trapped horse. And it is apparent, too (though not to the selfishly preoccupied Dimetos) that Sophia (a fine, restrained Anne Reid) has followed him out of more than just a sense of duty.
It's a frustratingly symbolic piece, lending itself to various interpretations, yet never really convincing. But Hodge's atmospheric production, Bunny Christie's design of rough wooden walkways, planks and knotted ropes, and, most of all, Jonathan Pryce's portrayal of the desperate, grizzled Dimetos overcome the irritation of some indulgent chunks of dialogue. Plagued by demons and rarely at rest, the manifestations of his inner torment and frustrated creativity exert an irresistibly powerful hold.
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