One of the most outstanding plays of the 20th century, Equus, Peter Shaffer’s intricate but vivid enactment of a true story, retains an immaculate reputation, bolstered by extraordinary productions in the past. It deals with the inexplicable blinding of several horses by a teenage boy, a story told to him by a friend who died shortly afterwards, with no first-hand knowledge of the crime or perpetrator at all; Shaffer filled the gaps with his imagination. I saw the original production, when it transferred to the Albery, as part of a school trip (!) and we sat on benches on the stage. At the time it was the most thrilling experience I’d had in a theatre and it opened my 16-year-old mind to appreciate some of the extraordinary things that theatre can achieve. I’ve seen it twice since, including the famous Daniel Radcliffe production, and it never fails to astonish. Seeing it again now in the intimate setting of the Menier Chocolate Factory was a no-brainer for me.
Long suffering psychiatrist Martin Dysart is told about the actions of 17-year-old Alan Strang by Hesther Salomon, the magistrate at his court case. With no apparent cause, and with no previous blemish on his character, Strang blinded six horses on a rampage in a stable. Hesther realises he needs help rather than just punishment, so reluctantly Dysart agrees to take him on. Initially obstructive, Strang slowly starts to open up as together they explore the reasons why he did what he did. As the play progresses, we see vignettes from his family life, his introduction to the stable and stable-mate Jill, and his instant infatuation with the horses. Shaffer saves the re-enactment of the blinding for the final scene, one of the most visually and emotionally shattering moments in 20th century drama.
One of the reasons why it’s always a thrill to see a production at the Menier is that you never quite know how the stage and seating will be configured. For Equus, Paul Farnsworth has created a black wooden stage, featureless apart from four benches in the corners, a black wooden walkway around the stage and what appears to be a centre revolve that they don’t use (looks it a bit odd, to be honest). In keeping with the original production, the offstage actors sit in vacant seats scattered around the front row of the audience, which emphasises how we’re all part of the same shared experience. Entrances are crisply made from those seats, the actors circling the edge of the stage until they walk onto it; if you’re used to stretching your legs out in the front row, you can’t do it in this show, or you’d trip everyone up.
At the back of the stage sit the horses, in their stable. Actors from a dance background, they’re motionless for much of the first act, but when they come to life, they roll, they writhe, they stagger, all with elegant choreographic grace. They create the illusion of individual horses, unless they come together when they portray Nugget, the Equus God, in whom Strang is so besotted. They exude an unpredictable strength; they’re not beautiful to watch, but they are mesmeric, eerie and unsettling. There’s no doubt that this presentation underlines the homoerotic nature of the play; it was always there, but in this production it’s beyond question.
It’s a first-rate cast who throw themselves into the production with full commitment. Colin Mace and Emma Cunniffe are excellent as Alan Strang’s parents, Frank and Dora. Both find it hard to express their feelings towards their son. Frank is a traditional man’s man who doesn’t go in for “emotions”, works long hours and refuses to allow a TV in the household, and Dora’s love for God comes first. Both give great portrayals of essentially good people who are totally bewildered by what their son has done.
Bella Aubin is superb as Jill, Alan’s confident young stable colleague, seeking to push Alan gently towards a relationship despite his internal conflict and immaturity. As Hesther Salomon, Amanda Abbington creates a palpable character out of what is really a shoulder on which Dysart can cry (and vent his spleen), advocating powerfully on behalf of Alan to protect whatever future he has. There’s also great support from Paula James as the no-nonsense nurse, David Rubin as stable owner Harry Dalton and Ed Mitchell as Nugget and the horseman.
Toby Stephens’ Martin Dysart is at the end of his tether from the start. Dysart should be embarking on a tremendous journey of self-discovery during the course of the play, reflecting on his homelife and his marriage, coping with an ever-growing workload, exasperated at himself, his very essence, his clients and the world at large. We know that Toby Stephens is a superb actor, with terrific technical skill, an imposing stage presence and the ability to conjure up all levels of emotion. However, I didn’t sense that this Dysart went on much of a journey, or that there was any significant character development. I didn’t feel his dark night of the soul, there were no penny-drop moments as he works out who he is. This is a play where all the characters should emerge at the end profoundly changed from how they were at the beginning, but for Dysart, it all felt strangely on one level. I know I’m in the minority here.
Noah Valentine, however, as Alan Strang, gives a truly great performance, riveting from the very start, combining insolence with vulnerability, aggression with passivity. Physically, it’s inspired casting; Shaffer’s only description of Alan in the stage directions is that he is a “lean boy of seventeen”, and indeed, Mr Valentine cuts a slim, slight figure, a powerful contrast with the muscular nobility of the horses. His expressions throughout are superb – you don’t need to hear this Alan speak in order to know what he’s thinking. Strang is still just a boy, and Mr Valentine truly convinces as a wayward, uncertain teenager who defaults to impudence and disobedience under pressure; and who could crack at any time. It’s a terrific performance – not to mention one of great bravery – and he will certainly be a name to follow in the future.
Admirably, there has been no attempt to update the play; the programme notes announce that the action takes place in the early 1970s, so Alan Strang’s incessant singing of television adverts is the same as it was fifty years ago. Advertising jingles today just don’t have the same iconic power!
However, there’s one directorial decision with which I completely disagree. Towards the end of the first act, Dysart encourages Alan to re-enact taking Nugget from the stable and leading him into the field. Shaffer’s stage direction states: “he mimes undressing completely in front of the horse”. However, director Lindsay Posner has Alan literally removing all his clothes, so that his final scene before the interval is performed naked. Obviously, this makes a great sudden impact, but in so doing, it detracts from the more significant final scene, the true climax of the play, where Alan is running, jumping, hurling himself about the stage naked whilst viciously jabbing the pick into the horses’ eyes.
To reinforce that final impact, Paul Pyant’s lighting design has to go full manic strobe, and effective though it is, that final scene ought not to need any additional lighting tricks to create its shock. But here it’s necessary because we already have a visual memory of Alan naked with Nugget – the surprise has already been ruined an hour earlier. Call me a purist, but when Shaffer instructed that the first undressing should be mimed, I reckon he knew what he was doing.
Overall, a committed and powerful production of an outstanding play, but somehow it didn’t quite crackle with the electric energy that I would have expected. Nevertheless, there are some superb performances, and Noah Valentine is a star of the future. After the run at the Menier ends on 4th July, the production transfers to the Theatre Royal Bath, who have co-produced it, for two weeks from 14th July.
Four They’re Jolly Good Fellows!
