The Pride

Seeing actors play multiple characters onstage isn’t all that unique.  Frankly, its fairly par for the course these days and Xanadu had a delightful zinger about it.  However, when the doubling is used as a dramatic device, it creates a point of comparison, of assumed juxtaposition, that makes for an interesting experience.  In Alexi Kaye Campbell’s The Pride, that experience is beyond interesting, bordering on true excellence.

Campbell has structured his performers to play the same core character across different timelines, 1958 and 2008.  And this being a gay play, the inherent cultural changes help shade the character transitions with more than just “people seeming different yet being the same” pathos that would be expected given the construct.  And as with most plays about character traits, what goes unsaid is so much more important that what is said.

Giving a dynamite performance by balancing an erstwhile growing pride in 1958 and a painful shame over his sex drive in 2008, Ben Whishaw’s Oliver is both restrained and overflowing.  Although its billed as an ensemble piece, Oliver is the central and primary role.  In 1958, he’s a writer who falls in love with his illustrator’s husband (Hugh Dancy’s Phillip), only to be shunted for his wanting something more than sex from him.  Conversely, in 2008, Oliver’s also been tossed to the curb by Phillip, but this time because he can’t stop having anonymous, even dangerous sex.

The battle between the two sides of the nature is fascinating, and Whishaw is amazing in the performance.  He shifts back and forth, shouldering the play on his extremely skinny back (seriously, the boy is emaciated).  While he was affecting, but overshadowed by Abby Cornish & John Schneider, in Bright Star, here he’s commanding in the center of the emotional swirl.  His aching is heartfelt, and he’s been getting a fair amount of accolades.  Joe over at Low Resolution gave the most forthright praise of the performance, and I’d be a fool to challenge it.

As for the play’s twists and painful turns, I won’t give too much away.  Although the run is about to end, I fully expect the show to make a transition uptown to the mainstage.  Given the full houses and near universal praise, that should happen – and it deserves to.  Hopefully, Ben Brantley’s NY Times review won’t kill those chances, and the run extensions and box office numbers are working in favor of the show’s potential.

Back in the cast, Dancy has a very difficult role to fill.  Its the least fleshed out, but he’s easily the most recognizable face in the production and he is onstage for a large majority of the show.  Perhaps the best moments he has are near the very end, when (in 1958), his Phillip is checking in to therapy.  His pained responses are heartbreaking, and Dancy does his best to elicit a real emotional leaky wall.  Its not easy work, but it does look easy here.

Andrea Riseborough’s Sylvia, the only female in the bunch gets  some of the best lines.  I found her to be grating in the first act, but she was excellent in her dual breakdowns in the second.  I knew very little about Riseborough going in, and am looking forward to her next performance rather avidly.  J’adore.

Rounding out the cast is Adam James, who steals each scene he’s in.  First a Nazi-costumes sex worker, then a voracious club owner, and finally a gruff therapist – each distinct performances and quite memorable.  He had the best bon mots, and got the biggest and most deserved laughs in the show.  Merely designed as a filler role, James rose above the material and was delightfully engaging.

Overall, the show is a powerful look at the duality of the gay experience.  Lust versus love, and all that.  Its done quite well, and given that this is Campbell’s first play, its amazing.  An excellent night at the theatre and a gay play that doesn’t play for victims.

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