The Hothouse

First of all, let me say how privileged we are, here in Guildford, to have a society like the Pranksters who are prepared to put on exciting, unusual, and challenging dramas. We are very lucky indeed. This, once again, was a tour de force.  A pure joy to see some Pinter again.

Pinter first penned the Hothouse in 1958, but left it aside. He resurrected it in 1979, and it premiered in London in 1980. It takes place in a government run ‘rest home’, where the inmates are known, not by their names, but by numbers.  There is an air of mystery – who gets put in there and why? – an air of ominous foreboding, threats on all sides, a total lack of trust.

This was brought home to us as we entered the auditorium, to find two of the characters, Roote and Gibbs, already on stage, at work, not communicating, with an intriguing and somewhat scary jazz track on repeat as we waited for the theatre to fill up. (The production was a sell-out.)

Choice of music is another of Pranksters many talents, many of their productions involve very evocative music. This can seem a small thing, but to me it can make a big difference to the enjoyment of the production. Lighting and sound were used to great effect throughout, at all times heightening the tension, the sense of threat.

The set was stark, an office, a desk, an intercom, a couch, a window, a filing cabinet, and a pinboard with a display of inmate profiles with their photographs, and of course their identification number.

The Director of the home was Roote, who we later discovered was an ex-Colonel. A stickler for discipline, he demanded that his staff address him as Sir at all times. Yes Sir, of course Sir, not at all Sir, responded Gibbs in a ‘going through the motions’ kind of way. Roote was constantly exasperated, constantly exploding, ranting, rubbing his brow in frustration. Why had he found himself in this place, we asked ourselves? Not out of choice, surely, or was it? We learnt a lot about his predecessor, and his predecessor’s predecessor. At one stage Roote wondered why the decision had been made to use numbers, rather than call patients by their names. Only briefly though, the decision had been made, impossible to go against that now.

The back room of the Star Inn has a stage at the rear, plus a lower platform area in front of that. Here we met a very bored Miss Cutts involuntarily sharing a tea break with young Lamb, a fairly new member of staff whose job seemed to have a lot to do with the locks, and little else. Lush passes through, somehow again a threatening presence. There has been a death and a birth. This is briefly mentioned. Miss Cutts walks off, cutting Lamb short.

Lamb later becomes the subject of some horrifying ‘tests’ carried out by Gibbs and Miss Cutts, that entails a lot of electrodes and some weird headgear, and a lot of pain, followed by panicked giggling. He aims to please, he hopes for promotion.

Roote’s composure is worsening by the hour, even Miss Cutts' ministrations no longer seem to help. Miss Cutts is obsessed with her femininity, her control over Roote, and possibly Gibbs.

Roote and Lush enjoy a drink together. Not just one. It’s Christmas Day. No presents for Roote, he gets a bit maudlin, until caretaker Tubb brings him a Christmas cake on behalf of the understaff. Lush enjoys goading Roote: ‘The snow has turned to slush’. At one stage Roote attacks the aptly named Lush, who passes out.

Who was responsible for the death? Who for the birth?  Imperative to find this out.

And so the whole sorry saga continues, building up layer upon layer of characterisation, threat, mystery and intrigue. The patients revolt. Only Gibbs survives, though possibly poor Lamb does too, emerging from his incarceration in a very sorry state.

Gibbs heads to the ministry to be interviewed by the somewhat cheery and matter of fact Lobb, who then promotes him to be the new Director.

Costumes, I found, were an important part of the drama. Roote, Gibbs and Lush all in dull grey suits. Miss Cutts in a very feminine flowy black and white dress, which she was always provocatively spreading over her knees. Lamb and Tubb in white overalls. Lobb in bright red shirt with braces.

But above all here, the Pranksters succeeded in horrifying us, (and amusing us too, there were some very comical exchanges, I felt strangely guilty at laughing). They built up the layers of tension slowly throughout, and provided this great sense of mystery. All six of the cast were excellent.

The only ‘sane’ members of staff were dear Lamb, and matter of fact Tubb, played very well by Dean Slade and Graham Leverton respectively. Lush was a weaselly kind of character, he knew how to irritate and push Roote to the edge of his sanity. Excellent portrayal by Alex Healy. Amy Demichele was marvellous as the very odd Miss Cutts, lavishly feminine, desperately seductive. Why was she there? Was she a plant? Tony Carpenter was fabulous as the calm, and rather sinister Gibbs. Marvellous facial expressions, a lot going on in his head. Red-shirted Lobb, the cheery and matter of fact man from the ministry was a good performance from Steven Liddle.

And then there was Roote. I doubt if one could have found a better Roote anywhere (I would have loved to have seen Pinter’s portrayal of him). Mark Ashdown gave a totally masterful performance, as he gradually disintegrated before our eyes. The interaction between all these disparate characters was very real, and yet it wasn’t. So typical Pinter really. Marvellous layers.

Congratulations to Ollie Bruce for his fabulous direction, and choice of, this piece. A real privilege to attend, and one that will stay in the memory.

Thank you, Pranksters, once again.

 

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