Dying with dignity: Patrick Godfrey (Old Man), Hazel Holder (carer). Photo credit Keith Pattison
Theatre: Lyttelton Theatre, National Theatre
Play: Here We Go
Playwright: Caryl Churchill
Director: Dominic Cooke
Review by Esha Chaman
Caryl Churchill’s latest work contemplates death in the most tedious manner. Unfortunately even the odd spark of cracking humour can’t save this short production from offering anything other than a disappointingly dull watch.
The triptych-styled 45 minute play begins with promise when we find a cluster of unnamed characters mingling and chatting away at a funeral service for the modestly named Old Man (Patrick Godfrey), against a very minimal backdrop.
Predictable commemorations towards the deceased are uttered, as the group remember “a man of the Left” with an “extraordinary mind”. However, the dialogue is largely hollow and lacks any raw sadness; his death doesn’t seem to emotionally touch them.
As the tributes trail in, one after the other, there is a brief pause where each character interjects the conversation bluntly and turns to the audience with how and when they themselves die. Lung cancer, Alzheimer’s and a motorbike accident are all matter-of-factly referred to as causes of death.
Pitch blackness swamps the stage in the second act where only a thin line of bright white light illuminates the half-naked Old Man alone in a tunnel, which gives a strong and effective illusion of being lost and suspended in the imagined afterlife.
A lengthy yet poignant monologue ensues where the Old Man’s child-like vulnerability is exposed as he wonders where he is and reflects back on his life philosophically with anger and humour before resolving that he is a “speck of sand in a desert”.
The third and final instalment of the triptych is a painstaking contrast. The eerie, dark void brightens to reveal a scene that could be in a care home. Here we see the Old Man in his bedroom being taken care of by a care worker. In pure silence we watch the Old Man being helped out of his pyjamas and into his day clothes, before he feebly makes the short journey with his zimmer frame to sit in his armchair. The same action is repeated several times until pitch darkness descends upon the stage to end the monotony.
At a stretch, Caryl Churchill’s Here We Go is a moving reflection on death, which is mostly helped by Patrick Godfrey’s heartfelt delivery of the monologue in the second instalment.
His moving performance, which touchingly captures the fragility of old age, saves the production from being completely hopeless. Otherwise it is a poorly executed and vacant play that invests too much in abstraction to elevate its purpose.
The final act moves from being slightly amusing after the first shuffle and clothes change, to being profoundly sad, watching the Old Man’s frail condition and dependency on his carer. But once this is repeated for the fourth time, 15 minutes later, it feels frustrating to watch.
Vicky Mortimer’s set design and Guy Hoare’s lighting adds a contemporary and smart finesse to the production visually. The rest of the cast, which includes Madeline Appiah, Joshua James, Amanda Lawrence, Stuart McQuarrie, Eleanor Matsuura and Alan Williams, don’t leave a lasting impression despite only filling the first 15 minutes of the play.
Susan Engel offers a good dash of innocent humour while Hazel Holder’s silent and patient performance as the carer is to be commended.
If you have the patience to withstand Here We Go, by all means give it go. Sadly it may leave you feeling shockingly underwhelmed.
Here We Go is at the National Theatre until 19 December 2015.