Must-see play about lifting the hem of ignorance
By Lisa Scott, for Otago Daily Times on 17 July 2012
The more things change, the more they change. Take libraries, for example. Once monuments to silence, today these periodical penitentiaries are noisy places where staff are made to welcome you at the door, like a tool shop. Instead of intimidating, now somehow reassuring, with their live music and Skype-ing tourists. The pink emergency checklist at the front desk reads: "Don't Panic. Identify Your Disaster." Where to begin?
Vibrators, on the other hand, have gone in the other direction: quieter, less cumbersome. The antique model featuring in In the Next Room, or the Vibrator Play, at the Fortune Theatre sounds like an aircraft taking off and is the size of an early computer. There'd be no chance of whipping that monstrosity out of your handbag for a subtle mini-break in the work toilets. It is so loud it almost drowns out the squeaks of pleasure coming from the audience.
In the Next Room is set in the Victorian era, a time when marriage was called "an institution" for good reason. Boredom often mistaken for hysteria, husbands were at a complete loss what to do with their listless, photo-sensitive wives. Chardonnay and sunglasses hadn't yet been invented.
Men, of course, have long believed there is nothing in this world that can't be cured by masturbation. For centuries, doctors had treated women for a wide variety of illnesses by performing "pelvic massage" to cause "paroxysm" (orgasm). However, not only did they regard this as having nothing to do with sex, they found it time-consuming and a bit of a fag. Designed as a way to avoid this chore, one of the first vibrators was a steam-powered device called the "Manipulator" - dangerous, awkward, but a relief for sore wrists.
In 1880, the first electromechanical stimulator was patented, making the vibrator the fifth domestic appliance to be electrified, after the sewing machine and before the vacuum cleaner. Remaining an antidote to both.
In Sarah Ruhl's In the Next Room, newfangled electric light illuminates Dr and Mrs Givings' living room. In the adjacent surgery Dr Givings, an impartial man of science ("What men do not observe because their intellect prevents them from seeing would fill many books," he remarks), treats the rigidly neurotic Sabrina Daldry, played by Claire Dougan, a natural comedienne, who just has to quirk her mouth to have me in fits. She could never play Lady Macbeth, I'd wet my pants laughing.
The Fortune's artistic director, Lara Macgregor, judiciously directs this Tony Award-winning, funny and charming play about lifting the hem of ignorance and repression. Chelsea McEwan Millar, in her professional debut as the spunky Catherine Givings, is particularly fine and Anna Henare shines, as always, as Elizabeth. Jason Whyte (Dr Givings) also makes a sizeable contribution, but then who could fail to be moved by full frontal male nudity? Not to give too much away, the play's climax is a moment of sweet revelation amid gently falling snow, used throughout the play as a metaphor for love.
"Wasn't that marvellous?" I said to the economist, eyes bright with tears, as the cast took their final bows to rapturous applause.
"I wonder whose job it is to clean up all that snow," he said.
"I hope they recycle it."
The problem with going to the theatre with the economist (apart from his crushing lack of romance) is that he just isn't capable of suspending disbelief. He simply cannot separate the role from the actor, and was terrified when he met Matthew Sunderland, who played mass murderer David Gray, at the launch of Out of the Blue.
It is for this reason that Hilary Halba's prim, plain, ambidextrous Annie in In the Next Room had him totally bamboozled.
"I always thought she was really hot," he said. "What happened?"
It is pointless trying to explain the complexities of characterisation and wardrobe to him.
"Bad hair day," I said, sighing.
He's new to this. I'm an old hand, having seen about 152 plays over the past nine years, and have a pretty good grasp of the theatrical arts (as much as one can without actually taking to the stage). This would have to be one of the best.
Closing night is July 28, so you've only got two weeks to get yourself organised. If there is any justice in the world, In the Next Room has already sold out - but call the Fortune Theatre today and beg them to sell you a ticket. You won't regret it.
Unless you're a humourless git with the sexual intelligence of a mung bean. In which case, the good things in life are rather wasted on you.
Copyright Otago Daily Times, 17 July 2012
