Final euphoria leaves us on a high
At university, I was friends with a student whose father’s successful business dealings meant he needn’t ever have a financial care in his life, yet he chose to renounce all material comfort, and, as far as I know, is still in that distant mountain retreat, begging bowl in hand, writes Eleanor Thorn.
In The Elephant in the Room, well-off orphaned twenty-four year old Ashley Davenport, I discover from an interview with its playwright Peter Hamilton, founder of Clockschool Theatre, was inspired by a fait divers about someone who similarly turned his back on the comfort and privilege around him, but did so by taking the unusual option to check into an old people’s home (a choice ironically only open to the most privileged, for it comes with a hefty bill!). Ashley’s time spent in different countries backpacking and dabbling in work around the world since leaving school has not alleviated how lost in life he feels.
We are introduced to Ashley (Richard Linnell) and his fellow characters who move to the rhythmic tune of “Horse With No Name”, the perfect soundtrack for this: songwriter Dewey Bunnell said the horse was “a metaphor for a vehicle to get away from life’s confusion into a quiet, peaceful place”.
The excellent use of music and lighting and great use of scenography and movement in what is a small performance area in this musty under-the-arches theatre in Waterloo are elements that definitely enhance the play. Never mind the unlikelihood of this actually happening (though it did!), and at times surreal narrative, the utterly real characterisation and gentle comedy within the confines of the retirement home is what draws us in and holds our attention.
We witness the encounter between the bright-eyed Yama, King of Death and Lord of the Underworld (Tanya Katyal), and Ashley (recovered from a coma in Rajasthan) that leads him to be overwhelmed by the pointlessness of life and decide to fast track to the 4th Stage of Life by presenting to a surprised whisky-sipping but not unwise Mr Krish (Jamie Zubairi), in Basingstoke’s Gethsemane Garden Village Retirement and Care Home’s lobby. We meet Ashley’s fellow residents, David (Ian Crowe), Rosemary (Annette Holland), Judith (Sian Howard) and Johnnie (Moray Treadwell) and giggle at their interactions, their random reminiscences, their invented version of Monopoly – much more a social commentary than a map of London – and their characters. What Ashley was not counting on in this end-of-life location was the presence of Ganesh, the elephant-headed Hindu god of new beginnings and bringer of wisdom. Clever use of visuals and the invisible-yet-visible King of Death make this apparent.
Nor is Ashley able to resist when carer Kim-Ly (Angie Lieu) makes her calculated move on him, seeing him as a potential way to a better life and stability. She was trafficked to the UK from Vietnam, whilst the home’s pastry chef Miguel (Ryan Crellin-Simpson), had a similar brush with sex work when arriving from Brazil. Together she and Miguel can make a baby, says Kim-Ly (before seducing Ashley), who does end up pregnant, perhaps by Ashley, whom she marries and sends to accountancy classes. Miguel it is who, despite having found God, surprisingly ends his life while Judith fails to remain on the other side despite her best efforts in the Lilac Room, the home’s place of rest residents go to when in the final moments of life. She gets so close she comes back with insight into what the future holds for her friends. It is not Ashley’s time. His “journey is beginning”. The quiet place he is seeking “can be inside you forever” urges Mr Krish, if only you can find out how. The play is not only about Ashley’s coming-of-age search for meaning but that of all of ours, and carries a universal message of humanity, equality and peace (contemporary ceasefire news reels are amongst the visuals). We must play our parts “in this cosmic drama” and “surrender to the great river of life”. This is well-acted, well-directed (in the hands of Ross McGregor) and well-constructed. The euphoria at the end leaves notes on a high.
Waterloo East Theatre, Brad Street London SE1 8TN until 27th October. Times: Tues – Sat 7.30pm; Sun 4pm. Admission: £18, £12.
Booking: www.waterlooeast.co.uk or 020 7928 0060
