Left & Cover - Geoffrey Rush. Photos - Heidrun LohrThere is so much one could say about this revived production of Gogol’s The Diary of a Madman, laced as it is with a certain epochal significance for the Belvoir St. Theatre. For those of us who would have been a bit too young to attend the original 1989 production but have since gained a familiarity with the company’s history, it has grown to become something of a legendary production, being an innovative hit show that toured cheekily to Mother Russia, but most significantly as a breakthrough collaboration between future stars and partners-in-crime Neil Armfield and Geoffrey Rush. Co-adapted by Armfield and Rush with David Holman, The Diary of a Madman seems to be remembered as a turning point of sorts for both the company and the careers of those involved, and as such seems poetically appropriate to mark another great turning point.
Much has already been written about the career of Neil Armfield and his decision to move on from the theatre that he has so closely fostered through his unparalleled artistic direction, entrusting the care of his beloved offspring somewhat unexpectedly to the much younger Ralph Myers, himself primarily a designer rather than a director or actor. In some ways the significance of this production as a moment of transition has been a little diffused by the necessarily gradual passing of the torch. After all, Armfield’s announced departure is by now quite old news, Myers’s 2011 season has already been launched and subscriptions put on sale, we now know that Neil will be back as a guest director on Summer of the Seventeenth Doll next year, and even the subtle change in branding from “Company B Belvoir” to simply “Belvoir” has already taken effect.
However, now that the ‘moment’ is indeed upon us, things begin to really sink in. This is the last show of Armfield’s final season as artistic director of a company he has been chiefly responsible for building into arguably the most artistically respected theatre in Sydney. To celebrate this fond farewell he and his old cohort Geoffrey Rush have decided to go back symbolically to those heady early days. I can’t say how closely this revival hews to the original, but if what we saw here tonight was even just a faint echo, then that 1989 production must have been like the proverbial lightning in a bottle.
With an imposingly vast set that belies the modest Belvoir stage in bold, sickly colours and a sloping ceiling (albeit somewhat poorly designed for the left bank of the audience) showing only a chink of daylight, this large empty loft apartment in St. Petersburg in short order becomes perversely claustrophobic as we descend ever deeper into the madness of the titular character. Indeed, the play’s title is perhaps a more literal description of the drama than one might expect, as there is very little plot here, but rather a deeply interior story of psychological unravelling as detailed through the diary entries of one Aksentii Poprishchin. As a lowly clerk “of the ninth grade” living hand-to-mouth, he is nevertheless obsessed with his status as a gentleman and the perceived injustices of his life.
Poprishchin starts off as simply bitter and self-involved, but begins to rapidly degenerate into paranoia and then outright delusion while he chronicles progressively fanciful “experiences” into his diary. Increasingly his only human contact is from brief visits by Tuovi, a kindly Finnish maid employed by his boarding house who takes a somewhat maternal shine to him (despite being many years his junior), concerned by his increasingly erratic behaviour.
More than anything else, what makes this such a brilliant piece of theatre is its masterful, inexorable trajectory from comedy to tragedy, the gradual tonal shift from eliciting the audience’s gales of laughter to concluding with an invocation of intense pity and bleak terror. This, more than anything else, is at the core of the Armfield/Rush magic at play here.
Although I’ve had the pleasure of seeing Geoffrey Rush on stage several times in addition to his many film roles, I’ve always felt that, for all his plaudits for serious roles, he was ultimately far more effective as a comedic actor. It is with this role that I have belatedly realised the truth: Rush’s real genius is in his ability to seamlessly combine the two.
In this tragicomic role of Poprishchin, Rush is a revelation, alternately hilarious as a grotesque buffoon and soul-rending as a victim of his own escalating insanity. He creates before our eyes someone for whom you ultimately feel great empathy in spite of being a fundamentally objectionable human being. It is hard to imagine what strange alchemical engine can drive an actor to produce such a masterfully rich performance that is at once flagrantly over-theatrical and yet conversely filled with incredible nuance. And that’s to say nothing of the buckets of irrepressible energy that even the curtain call cannot dissipate.
Yet while there is no denying that this is Rush’s show, one cannot praise his co-star enough in her three small supporting roles. Replacing the original production’s Lydia Miller, Yael Stone’s stage career of recent years has been both full and highly impressive, playing a diverse range of parts with aplomb. Even aside from getting to work opposite one of the contemporary greats, Stone’s work here should be viewed as a major achievement, for her performances, although brief, are exemplary, especially in her endearing primary role of Tuovi.
Although this season is completely sold out, it is one of the rare shows where I would actively encourage you to pursue standing-room tickets, to beg, borrow or violently mug people for their seats, to do what you can to see it. Sure, you could always fly to New York and catch it when the production tours there, but it is here, at Belvoir, that this show truly belongs. It may mark the end of an era, but what a note to go out on!
Company B Belvoir presents
The Diary of a Madman
by Nikolai Gogol / adapted by David Holman with Neil Armfield and Geoffrey Rush
Director Neil Armfield
Venue: Upstairs Theatre | 25 Belvoir St Surry Hills NSW
Dates: 4 December 2010 - 6 February 2011
Times: 6.30pm Tuesday, 8pm Wednesday - Friday, 2pm & 8pm Saturday, 5pm Sunday
Bookings: 02 9699 3444
