As Arcadia set out to tease audiences in Johannesburg, Guy Willoughby spoke to Tom Stoppard between West End rehearsals of his latest play
THERE can be few more incendiary British playwrights living than Tom Stoppard — an evening in the theatre with one of his plays is a bit like a mental Guy Fawkes night. Stoppard doesn’t so much celebrate the potential of drama as cerebrate it; by bringing lashings of intelligence and sheer good fun to the stage, he reminds us forcibly that theatre can, well, do
One of the things the playwright doesn’t like doing, it seems, is passing comment on his own plays — “I talk about them only at gunpoint”. However, he kindly allowed himself to be drawn about one or two of them last week, in between the West End rehearsals of his latest play, Indian Ink.
Most of our conversation turned on Arcadia, his last British and American stage success, currently in production at Johannesburg’s Civic Theatre. Naturally, local audiences should prepare themselves for the
“Arcadia takes place simultaneously in two periods of time,” says the playwright cheerily. “First, we have a group of characters at the beginning of the 19th century. Then, a few in the present day. The action alternates between these periods, but always in the same house — in fact, in the same room.”
Tricksy stuff, for once again Stoppard is experimenting with the olden dramatic verities. No unities of place and time for Stoppard; in Indian Ink, he tells me, the audience must digest two settings as well as time zones. “It’s set in India in 1930, and concerns a woman poet; it also takes place in England at the present
I ask Stoppard, deadpan, what role he foresees for the long-suffering audience in these plays. He thinks a moment. “Well, of course, the plays are written for audiences. They are the people I tell the story to … Actually, the audience is the reason I work in the
Not that that’s any reason to mollycoddle playgoers, of course; we return to Arcadia. “Two characters are investigating what happened in this house nearly 200 years ago. Lord Byron had something to do with it.” He adds wryly: “It gets complicated, I admit.”
Complication, of course, is something that the mercurial Stoppard thrives on, especially if there’s a bit of literary history, or speculation, thrown in. Playgoers will remember the ingenious Rosenkrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, in which Hamlet plays second fiddle to the bit players in Shakespeare’s tragedy; or Travesties, which manages to make fun of Oscar Wilde, James Joyce and the Dadaist Tristan Tzara all in the same breath.
“Arcadia is a kind of literary detective work,” Stoppard agrees. “One of the characters is an English academic, who is trying to find evidence of Lord Byron’s involvement in a long-buried scandal. No, I’ve got nothing against English academics, I can assure
Is Stoppard in conscious dialogue with Byron, as he is with Shakespeare and Wilde in earlier plays? “No, Byron doesn’t really feature himself. He is merely an offstage character.” But then, so was Hamlet in Rosenkrantz and Guildenstern.
Stoppard has enjoyed playing about with the murder- mystery genre before; mad detectives inhabit The Real Inspector Hound and the brilliant Jumpers. “In Arcadia, the mystery that engrosses the two modern-day characters has already been solved by the audience — they know the answer beforehand.”
Like Hapgood, Stoppard’s curious piece of quantum- theory detective work, Arcadia bristles with the strange world of chance that inhabits contemporary science. Does he believe the theatre should engage with novel ideas and theories? His plays seem full of exactly that. Stoppard disclaims such portentous notions: “I don’t believe big ideas are necessary to the theatre; theatre is recreation, it must entertain. But does the audience have to understand everything they see? If you or I go into an art gallery, we don’t understand what the artist is trying to tell us, though we may enjoy the painting.”
Stoppard’s teasing attitude towards his audience makes me think of Oscar Wilde — one precursor of Stoppardian wit, and a figure burlesqued in Travesties. “I enjoy his prose as well as his plays; it’s a pity we only tend to see three of his dramas. He’s an admirable figure. I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about him, however.” And contemporary playwrights? “No, I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about them either.”
I ask Stoppard in what ways Arcadia beats a path away from previous plays. We talk a little about Travesties, my personal favourite, in which the writer turns art and politics into sheer music hall. “Well, unlike Travesties, Arcadia requires — relies on — a clear narrative line. Travesties is a collection of highly wrought comments on styles, myths, philosophies, and so on. Arcadia is really concerned with the story it’s
Stoppard has strong views about the future of the theatre, of course. “We’ve been told since about 1960 that it’s very, very bleak,” he says wryly. “I think it’s much stronger now than it was. I think it’s proved itself, that it’s a thing apart.” A steely note comes into his voice. “It can’t be replaced: it won’t give way on its position.”
Stoppard’s hackles rise at the mention of theatre’s dreaded rival, the one-eyed monster of the living room. “Television doesn’t interest me, even though ours in Britain is supposed to be the best in the world. It’s an uninteresting medium.
“Now in the theatre, everything you see is in medium- wide shot. There’s no intermediary, like the camera, telling you what to focus on. You get the immediate rewards and penalties of the moment. By the way, what’s your television like in South Africa …?”
Stoppard is very fond of radio, however, especially radio drama — a medium in which he has excelled throughout his career. “It’s a most efficient dramatic form. You go into production, and in three or four days it’s done. Very satisfying. Here in Britain, at least, you can get the services of some of the best actors available. Radio is a playwright’s medium.” Unlike television, we may infer.
Radio drama has proved a testing ground for Stoppard in other areas too. “I’ve often stolen from my work on radio. Indian Ink, my latest, began as a play for the BBC three years ago.” Stoppard continues with an outrageous fib: “Not that I have enough ideas to survive as a writer of radio, TV and theatre.”
Well, Stoppard has probably done more in the last 25 years to ensure the commercial survival of theatre than any other British playwright; he has kept the magic and brought back the brains to this most protean of performing arts. His final thoughts on theatre take the form of a post-Wildean paradox. “I love the theatre, of course. But I don’t know if I like it because of its value — or if it’s of value because I like it.”
Arcadia runs in the Tesson Theatre at the Johannesburg Civic until March 11
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