Blackbird – David Harrower
Review
Summary :
Una is almost thirty years old. She drove for hours and now she finds herself in a
kind of waiting room, dirty, garbage all over the place. We are put in a miserable
atmosphere since the beginning. She came to see Ray, a little man in a black suit, a
little bit tired, who’s in his sixties. She waits for him, impatient, an unhappy
impatience. She seems to be afraid, to be apprehensive, her fists are clenched in her
pockets, she seems to be possessed by a kind of violence that keeps growing. When
he finally arrives, when he sees her, his eyes become red, they hurt, they sting.
When he finally arrives, he doesn’t know what to say to her. There is a certain
tension, characters enter and go out multiple times, and the two protagonists feel
shame, anger, and a feeling of curiosity that their ambivalent attitude betrays. It’s
been a long time since they have not seen each other. They seem to have missed
one another.
The text is of a disturbing simplicity. The rhythm that he imposes to the characters
is strong. They are in a special setting, it’s like they were trapped. Even though
each one of them could leave at any time, that room feels like prison where they
have to talk to each other. To clear things out. The lines fuse, each character shoots
the other one with a question, and this verbal war is alternated. Every tension
moment has its sense, nothing is innocent. There is no overdue words, no vulgarity,
no disgust. It’s intense. Very quickly, we think that the two characters have said
everything. But they remain there, and other questions come up. « Is she beautiful ?
Who is she ? Does she know ? Does she know about us » ? Becaus yes, there is a
« us » to be explored in this play. That is the most disturbing thing in the play. The
more we keep reading, the more we wonder which one of them is the craziest one:
him, for having fallen in love with a twelve year old girl; or her, who, only twelve,
already knew much about love, desire, and men. We feel unease because the
question of the love is really there: Did they really love each other? Is this the
horrible story of a sick pedophile and the victim of his sick desire? He doesn’t
really seem to be a pervert, though. And she doesn’t seem to be a victim. Is this
really a love story then ? The play asks this question without actually answering it.
Critique
