Drivel time

The NT’s new production, John, is by a youngish American playwright, Annie Baker. We Brits tend to assume that ‘john’ is American for ‘toilet’ so perhaps lavatorial treats are in store. The setting is a provincial hotel run by a blithering old dear whose only guests are two grumbling yuppies with marriage problems. The plot of a play usually starts within ten minutes but not here: nothing happens. That’s the point. Instead of a story there’s a minor predicament and this, oddly enough, suits the show’s personalities.

The yuppies, Elias and Jenny, are just about memorable enough to be human beings but they haven’t the substance or grit for dramatic characters. Their personalities lack density or appetite. They have no sharp edges, no grand flaws, no higher aims. Elias is a vague splodge of self-pity concerned with insults directed at his Jewish heritage. He works as a computer something-or-other. His hobby is playing the drums. Jenny is a simpering hypochondriac whose diseases ruin the couple’s holiday plans and leave them stranded in the breakfast room with the blithering old dear. Her best friend is another blithering old dear whose husband is dead. And she’s blind. This doesn’t enliven matters.

In between yawns, I turned to the programme notes and discovered that Annie Baker won the Pulitzer Prize in 2014. The play has all the hallmarks of talent corrupted by acclaim. The artsy stage directions are contrived and very pleased with themselves. To indicate the passing of time, the old dear ambles over to the grandfather clock and turns the long hand through many revolutions. To indicate the close of an act, she pulls the stage curtains together. Her little hotel is cluttered with trinkets, toys and multicoloured junk which we, the smart urban play-goers, are expected to find amusing.