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WRITING WITH BRAINS

A Dog Has Died Inside Me

Written by David Christopher

Directed by Stamatina Papamichali

The Miller of Mansfield - London Bridge

Jan 21-23, 08

The upstairs bar at The Miller is not exactly what you’d call roomy, and with the audience sitting a mere foot or so away from the tiny, low stage, you are very much drawn in to what is happening upon it. This could be a highly unpleasant experience if you were witnessing a poor performance. Fortunately, in David Christopher’s A Dog Has Died Inside Me this is not the case, and indeed the intimacy of the space provides the perfect setting for the voyeuristic journey that you invited to partake in.

Featuring a cast of three (I don’t imagine the stage could accommodate more), A Dog Has Died Inside Me employs the unusual but effective conceit of having two men (Conor Irwin and Justin Melican) play the same character, Gregory Castle, simultaneously. Conor’s Gregory serves as the narrator, in a haunting Irish brogue that is by turns bitter and tender, who sits at the front or to one side of the stage mentally leafing through the pages of his eighteen year marriage with the now-departed Wendy, to whom his monologue is addressed. At the same time, Melican’s Gregory is enacting these past scenes and emotions onstage with Wendy (played by Georgina Edwards). The two male actors have been physically well-chosen; both bearded and with a piercing gaze, they echo each other effectively, while Conor’s larger stature suits the more magnified attitude that his grief and anger seem to have endowed him with.

Initially Wendy’s apparent weakness and neediness (mocked by Gregory in his references to her exploitation of her dog’s dotage) seem to let down the powerful script, and the two men threaten to make a mere cipher of her. However it is a testament both to the construction of the monologue/dialogue, and the nuanced performances of the actors, that the subtle changes in the dynamic of both Gregory and Wendy’s past relationship, and in the narrator-Gregory’s reminiscences, come through, exposing the flaws of all three personas while still maintaining the sympathy of the viewer. You wonder by turns if we are being asked to hate or despise Wendy or Gregory, and it could of course be problematic that it is Gregory, the dominant male, who has the authoritative voice over their story. But ultimately it is Gregory who has been deserted, and for all his recriminations and Wendy’s genuinely irritating qualities, in the end we feel the pain of both characters has been pretty fairly dealt with. When narrator-Gregory talks of ‘how much use I got out of you’, we not only sense Wendy’s submissiveness but also feel Gregory’s guilt at the way he preyed on her vulnerability as a means of hiding his own emotional deficiencies. In fact he identifies with the dog much more than he was willing to let on when Wendy was still around.

The audience is not given an easy ride in this play, which is raw in terms of both acting and scripting, and makes no bones about the emotionally and sexually intimate details of Wendy and Gregory’s relationship, which is physically highly charged. But the discomfort of such voyeurism rarely feels gratuitous, and the darker moments are nicely balanced by the levity and humour injected by the script and Conor’s delivery, who gives the strongest performance of the three.

It is a shame, however, that the denouement of the play – Wendy’s death (possibly suicide) under the wheels of a train, anticipated by Gregory’s infidelity with a colleague and ambiguity over Wendy’s possible pregnancy and what that would mean - is dealt with too hastily, with almost too light a touch for you to take it in. We already know that she has died – Gregory has told us so much earlier – but the neatness with which the actual event is fitted into the prose (we don’t really see the incident occur), lacks the emotional tension which has been built up throughout.

The very final scene is a touching one however, and overall this is a well written, well-acted and well-staged piece of powerful theatre. David Christopher has written for theatre and film, but this is his first produced play, and it is a very promising debut. Praise is due also to director Stamatina Papamichali and the cast for an accomplished handling of Christopher’s material, which demands a great deal from both actors and audience, but certainly rewards the effort.

A Dog Has Died Inside Me was the opening performance of the ‘Write Side of the Brain’ festival, showcasing new writing from the Royal Court Young Writer’s programme. The play was preceded by strong poetry performances, particularly the excellent and witty Dockers MC. The festival continues at The Miller until February 6^th, and if these shows are anything to go by, it is well worth heading down for.