Art
Yasmin Reza’s play has conquered the world, grossing £200m over the last twenty years. If that seems improbable for a single act play about art, it’s a testament to her abilities as a writer that three blokes arguing about a painting should have so fired up the imagination of the theatre-going public. Norwich’s turn to be fired up was provided by the starry cast of Nigel Havers, Denis Lawson, and Stephen Tompkinson.
Havers first performed in the earliest of the touring productions back in the day, and slipped back into the role of Serge as he might a pair of comfortable slippers. Assured, funny and utterly at ease, he invested a silly, pretentious art lover with charm and good humour. There was, perhaps, a sneaking sense that this was all a bit too easy - familiarity bringing a degree of complacency in a role he sometimes seemed to know too well – but in fairness to Havers, part of the problem was bouncing off of Denis Lawson, who seemed to struggle bringing life to the pompous, self-regarding Marc.
Marc is the least sympathetic of the three friends (his description of Serge’s painting as “shit” is succinct, but hardly conciliatory) but Lawson’s pedestrian delivery failed to convince that a man would be this angry, and why, something that occasionally sent the play off kilter. Key to Reza’s narrative is that both men have a legitimate point, so that the audience is forced to switch allegiance back and forth as each states his case. It’s what makes sense of, and provides the need for, friend and peacemaker Yvan. With Larson’s inexplicable truculence no match for Haver’s charisma, it felt at times that there was no case to answer, and by implication Yvan’s intervention redundant.
Given the quality of Tompkinson’s performance, this was a huge shame. He outflanked both his colleagues, injecting heart and pathos that was noticeably absent when he was. His portrait of a man bewildered by his friends petty squabbling, not least when he had more substantial problems of his own, was both vigorous and authentic, deservedly winning the biggest laughs, and spontaneous applause, not least for a bravado central speech that was as tragic as is was humorous.
The speech was the fulcrum on which the play pivoted from comedy to tragedy – a word Reza has repeatedly used to describe her play – and was the key to understanding what Art was really all about. Since it was first performed Tracy Emin has left her bed unmade, Tilda Swinton has slept in a glass box, and Martin Creed has switched a light on and off. An all-white painting seems oddly quaint by comparison, and it’s certainly debatable whether it would cause so much upset today. However, to suggest that the play has therefore lost its impact is to misunderstand what Reza was doing here. It’s worth remembering that, notwithstanding the translation, Art is still about three Frenchmen, living in Paris around the corner from the Pompidou centre. At the time, Reza and translator Christopher Hampton quickly agreed that “three Englishmen would never behave in the way the characters do” so it rather misses the point to suggest the play no longer reflects public opprobrium - it never did.
While the play does take frequent and witty pot-shots at the pretensions of the art world (the painting is surely a cheeky nod to Yves Klein's Blue) it is about something that is both more universal and specific. Serge, Marc and Yvan have been friends for so long, they can’t remember why. Tired and dismissive of each other, the painting exposes fault lines that throw everything into doubt, but it could have been anything. The play is about how easily friendship can unravel - how best to react when your friend does something stupid, or judges your actions harshly, or squabbles endlessly and pointlessly. If your friend does or says something entirely alien to your way of thinking, are they the same person you once knew, and if not, are you really friends anymore?
Reza isn’t foolish enough to attempt easy answers, but scratch beneath the cantankerous surface of these silly, vain men, and her abiding message is one of caring. Marc is furious with Serge only because he doesn’t want him to be so foolish. Serge is angry with Marc only because he wants his friend to be more empathic. Both of them are mad at Yvan because he is sleepwalking into a disastrous marriage. What binds them (a point they repeatedly question) is a desire to think better of each other, and by implication be better men. As the final, touching scenes made explicit, the painting, in the end, doesn’t really matter.
