Theatre

The invention of love

Hampstead Theatre, London

3/5

Distant Oxford passions

As the time comes for Charon to take A. E. Houseman on his last river journey, he reminisces about his life, delights, disappointments and missed opportunities. A. E. Houseman was a renowned classical scholar and poet, these two passions uneasily cohabiting from the start. Interestingly the play concentrates on the scholar and hardly mentions the poet, although most remember Housman for his poetry. The palpable nostalgia for early Oxford University days infuses most of the play. The real subject of the play however, ‘the real thing’ which preoccupies Stoppard so, is love. Houseman’s affection for his friend Moses Jackson remains unreciprocated and as a man of his time and temperament, this eats away at him quietly.

Some of the most powerful scenes feature Housman’s younger self, played by Matthew Tennyson, conferring with his older self, played by Simon Russel-Beale. The older Houseman cannot avoid trying to advise his younger counterpart, but the best he can do is be surprised at the other man’s convictions. Inevitably the older man counsels the younger to seize the day, as life is too short. The two actors complement each other well in representing the gap in understanding created by time, the younger man earnest and naïve, the older jaded and philosophical.

I was curious about this Stoppard play, premièred at the National in 1997, which I have never seen before, and although Simon Russel-Beale could read a twitter feed and make it sound riveting, I felt the play was probably the weakest Stoppard offering. The memories of mildly entertaining scenes of stiff Victorian professors discussing their interests and surreptitiously competing while playing croquet evaporate in an instant. It’s not just that it’s difficult to understand all the historical references, it also seems indifferent to try. As much as I admire and share academic interests, the discussions about which critic of Latin poetry was less subjective in his rewriting of contentious verse, although amusing, is difficult to care for. And unfortunately spoken Latin these days only reminds me of the worst British Prime Minister and his random and shallow spouting of it.

One can’t escape thinking that this play is mainly for gay classical scholars from Oxbridge. Russel-Beale gets the wittiest lines and delivers them beautifully, but the bulk of the play debates niche interests without relating them to the wider world, an approach Stoppard often takes, but here the field of vision is simply too narrow. It is not only difficult to get excited about these interests, they also imply the insignificance of British elite academic institutions. The spirit of learning being what it was and is, it is not surprising that our ruling classes are lacking in relevance.

A masterful invention of a 3-piece boat which gently comes together and apart, confers stage magic on tenderly remembered moments punting in Oxford. It sets the scene for the economically and sensitively depicted bonds shared by the three young friends. Charon’s boat on the other hand, more predictably rooted in Classical myth, attempts to connect various scenes, but doesn’t always succeed. The earthy Charon is a nice touch, representing the fear of the privileged that when death comes they will be handled by the lower classes.

Russel-Beale saves the day with his effortless wit and cadence, although the rest of the cast provide solid support. I’m glad Hampstead is reviving Stoppard and it is interesting to get to know his plays, but perhaps this one can be left aside for a little while now.