Media release
Breathing Life into death
Dispassionate slicing and dicing strips away sentiment to lay humanity bare
Review - Christina Kenney, contributing editor: Cue
Talk about ending the festival with a theatrical bang: the KickstArt production of Margaret Edson's Wit will twist your guts into knots and leave you shattered - but in a peculiarly cerebral way that strips away sentiment to lay bare pure, genuine unfettered humanity.
This play, starring Clare Mortimer and directed by Steven Stead, does not set out to manipulate the audience emotionally but may leave you blubbing nonetheless. This is theatre of the highest order that engages both the head and the heart, no question about it.
American playwright Margaret Edson won the Pulitzer Prize for drama in 1999 after experiencing an uphill battle to get her play about cancer performed, let alone recognised.
Bravo to her for her persistence, because this is a very special work that fully deserves its sold-out status at the (Grahamstown National Arts) Festival.
From the outset, let's state the while Wit is on a simplistic level a play about cancer, it is not a downer. It will inevitably elicit an emotional response but overall it has an unlikely spring in its step considering the subject matter.
This can be put down to lively and intuitive writing, expert direction and a dazzling, possibly career-defining performance from Mortimer who plays the central character, Professor Vivian Bearing.
Partly immersed in the flashbacks unfolding on stage, partly narrating directly to the audience, she matter-of-factly states that "I think I die in the end" - so there are no unrealistic expectations from the audience.
Vivian is a senior scholar in 17th century poetry, specifically John Donne's sonnets, many of which deal with metaphysical themes and life after death.
She is diagnosed with stage four metastatic ovarian cancer - but when told this by an oncologist, all she can think about is the peculiar terms he uses, such as "insidious".
This intellectual is accustomed to dealing in words, you see, not emotions - certainly not her own. So she feels compelled to scrutinise concepts and events in a logical analytical manner, almost from the outside looking in.
Her dry, wry, humorous asides help her maintain her composure and mask any inner turmoil she may be experiencing.
However, her cancer is something over which she has no control, and soon her defences - both physically from the aggressive chemotherapy, and mentally, from the sheer weight of bearing this terminal illness unsupported - start crumbling. Her smarts can't help her now.
The stage is dressed in clinical hospital white, including Vivian herself, who is clad in a white hospital gown and peak cap.
This could allude to the protagonist's sterility of emotion but also to her innocence in the visceral ways of the world, despite her obvious prowess in the academic arena.
As her lecturer-mentor (Alison Cassels) reminds her, dearth is a comma, a pause; it is not acted out in exclamation marks.
The doctors that examine her, particularly a former student, Dr Jason Posner (Neil Coppen), view her more as a guinea pig, a specimen than a human being.
In short, they dissect her the way she has dissected literary texts (and sliced and diced quivering students) in the past: dispassionately.
Unaccustomed to soliciting closeness, the only shred of empathy she encounters emanates from her nurse, Susie Mononan (Olivia Borgen) whom she scorns as intellectually inferior but who actually possesses far more emotional intelligence than she does. With its finely balanced moments of humour and drama, this is a substantial play and matters of philosophy, theology and what one character dubs Donne's "salvation anxiety" raise their heads.
The denouncement is a low-key and satisfying one, where the twin paradoxes of sense and sensibility collide in a quietly shuddering moment devoid of soppiness as the hidden soul returns home. Mortimer's performance will leave you reeling; Wit will leave you stunned.
Tickets are reasonably priced at R40 for all – available from www.ticket.co.za or 073 725 7381. Light meals and a full cash bar can be enjoyed in Café Dulce, situated in the Wits Theatre Foyer. Free, covered parking in the adjacent Senate House (the entrance is on Jorissen Street) ensures peace of mind. Complimentary tickets are available to the media on request.
