Forty three years on from its first production, this therapy session play feels as current as ever
“Music is the purest expression of humanity that there is,” says Stephanie in one of her therapy sessions. But the ex-violinist can no longer play the instrument that defines her life, identity and soul. She has been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, and has to come to terms with a new existence. First seen at the Bush Theatre in 1980 and loosely inspired by the life of Jacqueline du Pré, this two-hander by Tom Kempinski, set in a therapist’s office over the course of six sessions, is still refreshing in its exploration of the nature of psychiatry. It feels as if it could have been written with today’s world in mind.
In Richard Beecham’s steady, clinical production, Tara Fitzgerald is almost teenager-like in her resistance to her therapist’s questioning. First, she responds with spiky acerbity, before delivering shouty monologues. She admits she “gets a bit low sometimes”, but wouldn’t anyone in her situation? She’s coping. But, as the reality of what she has lost starts to sink in, Stephanie’s upset bubbles to the surface, breaking apart her steely exterior. Her speech punctuated by pauses, stumbles and corrections, Fitzgerald makes Stephanie a convincingly flawed, dented character.
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But Stephanie meets her match in Doctor Feldmann – who is here played by a woman, Maureen Beattie, for the first time in a professional production. From her initial gentle acceptance of her patient’s disruptiveness, Beattie grows to become her challenger. Carefully, she draws out memories from Stephanie’s childhood, as well as the path that led her to an enduring love of music. Feldmann’s initial dedication to professionalism makes her later outburst all the more rousing. It is a moment that reveals the humanity that lies just underneath the psychiatrist role. What Kempinski shows is that even when a job demands it, no one can exist with genuine disconnection.
Music, composed by Oliver Vibrans, is resoundingly played by a violinist between each scene, as a reminder of everything Stephanie once was. On a slowly revolving stage, two chairs face each other. The women, almost in battle, sit in them and hold their ground. With such stillness, we are almost totally dependent on Kempinski’s script to keep our interest. Yet the characters are so fully realised that it more than does it job.
This is a penetrating look into the benefits and difficulties of therapy. More than 40 years since its first outing, the play still shines.
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