Interview: Imogen Stubbs Talks CLYBOURNE PARK

Pulitzer Prize-winning Clybourne Park was fully rehearsed and ready to run at Park Theatre for its 10th anniversary back in 2020. Covid prevented the revival from materialising, but now, two years later, it is finally set to return to the London stage.

Actor Imogen Stubbs took time out of rehearsals to speak with BroadwayWorld about the production.

What can you tell us about the play and the themes it tackles?

Clybourne Park is Bruce Norris's imaginative response to Lorraine Hansberry's brilliant play A Raisin in the Sun. The play takes place in a house in Chicago in 1959 for the first act, and in the same house in 2009 for the second - when Barack Obama was in power, so we have two very different periods in history.

The first act centres on a couple called Russ and Bev who are moving house after the death of their son. They have sold their house to the neighbourhood's first black family, which upsets and bewilders members of the white community. The second act centres on a young white couple moving to the same house in what has become a black neighbourhood. The couple want to knock down the house and rebuild, much to the distress of the existing community - some of whom have very personal connections to the house.

So basically, the play focuses on the process of change and the idea that, in some ways, the history of America is the history of ownership. The play deals with many, many things, asking questions rather than providing answers. It is hugely about language and ownership - ownership of language, people, countries, status, property and so on. It is about how things change and don't change - progress and regress. Overwhelmingly it focuses on the crucial importance of language and the use and misuse of it. Whether conscious or unconscious.

In the first act, my character is in some ways progressive. But she does have a maid who is of colour, and she also has received ideas of etiquette and the balance of power, which inevitably lead to her views being tainted by unconscious bias.

Even so, she is castigated for her liberalism by members of her community who hold views which are horrifying to a modern audience but, alas, were prevalent in the Fifties. Bev thinks of her maid as a friend - although the feeling is not mutual for obvious reasons.

The dialogue is sometimes very funny, sometimes shocking, sometimes searingly eloquent - and then cacophonous or excruciatingly uncomfortable. The arguments expressed feel intended to provoke discussion rather than proselytise. Russ and Bev have a tragic history which means they are dealing with intense grief which unites and disunites them as a couple - and impacts their status within the community. All the characters are infinitely more complex than the stereotypes they might appear at first - nothing is black and white.

You play Bev and Kathy. As an actor, is multi-roling a daunting task or is it something you relish?

Oh, it's a treat to get to play several characters. Bev is a 50s housewife who is so much more than just a pinny and a pair of marigolds. Her breezy, upfront jollity masks the hysteria and sadness and exhaustion she is desperate to keep hidden, owing to the task of dealing with a husband who is deeply distressed to the point of becoming catatonic. They are both defined by grief, and by their respective coping mechanisms which are driving them apart from each other and the community. There is a balance to be found (I dearly hope) between having fun with the character and honouring the truthfulness.

The second role is Kathy who is a lawyer and a very different character. Confident and outspoken - a career woman with no children and a sometimes blunt sense of self-importance.

Bruce Norris is a brilliant writer. The play is superbly written and a joy to speak and perform - except when you go wrong, at which point you drag the rest of the cast down a terrifying hole. It is a wonderful ensemble piece. The dialogue is fast with a lot of overlapping. It is pretty daunting trying to stay in the moment and not lose your way.

The dialogue is almost musical - it has such strong rhythms and beats and tonal changes. It's like playing in an orchestra with us all trying to honour this exquisite masterpiece. And the prospect of being the one who whacks the cymbals at the wrong time is frankly terrifying. There is a lot to learn and assimilate, but we are blessed to have a great director in Oliver Kaderbhai. He is so well prepared and - vitally - clever and fun and generous.

What lures you to a play? How important is the subject matter and the themes, or do you look at character first?

For me it is the play itself, but I am now of an age when I am too decrepit to act all the time (I like to nap) and so it has to be a play that is about something that seems important to me, and with characters that are unlike ones I have played before. I have worked at the Park before in Joanna Murray Smith's superb play Honour - and am very happy to be back in such a lovely environment.

I love the intimacy of Park Theatre. You've performed in such a variety of venues - do you prefer larger or smaller spaces?

Large spaces can be thrilling - you feel part of a tradition that goes such a long way back and it can be extraordinarily exciting to take ownership of the space - but I prefer smaller spaces. I think a lot of actors would say that now. In today's world, people are so used to small screens and the power of a close-up. It's very hard to give an audience that intimacy or naturalism in a big theatre. And the style of performance needed to communicate with an audience in a large auditorium can feel extravagant or untruthful. Especially to a younger generation for whom it is less familiar.

Speaking of younger theatregoers, do you think UK theatre is in a healthy state?

Well, no - not with Covid, and the current horror in Ukraine, and with lockdown leading to television and the internet becoming such an understandable source of distraction and necessary security blanket. And not with all the cuts and the expense and the fears of being in a space with strangers.

However, there are so many wonderful performers and writers around with so much to say and share. And we desperately need to be reminded that humans are creators as well as destructors - and essentially storytellers. And these are more necessary than ever in a time of crisis, to nurture our souls and speak up for us and inspire and console us and help us understand how complex we are. But it costs so much to put on a show and that is why it takes brave producers to take a risk on a small show or a new young creative team. Fortunately, we have producers with courageous hearts.

Did you see the play during its original run? Did you already know it?

No. I didn't know it at all. But I did hear that Sophie Thompson was utterly brilliant in my roles - so kill me now.

How has the rehearsal process been so far?

Well, we started rehearsals two years ago. And then Covid hit, and we had to literally walk away from the show, the theatre and each other, without knowing if we would ever see each other again. It was devastating. But everything was devastating. And the horizon kept tilting.

And now we are rehearsing again and there are new world horrors, and the horizon is tilting to a different but equally uncertain and alarming angle. So much has happened in the last two years, and that obviously affects our understanding, and very possibly the impact of the play. But Oliver is terrific, and we are relishing the privilege of rehearsing, and maybe this time getting to perform this play together.

I think the pandemic, and the recent horrors in the world, have made all of us very grateful for the communion of hearts that a play can inspire - between the writer and the actors, director, producers, designers, stage management, all those involved in putting on a play - and the audience.

It can feel like a form of faith: that willing suspension of disbelief, and concomitant abandonment to joy and wonder and outrage and laughter and tears. To what makes us prickle - to whatever makes our toenails twinkle. To know, to quote Dylan Thomas "that our grief and happiness is forever shared and forever all our own". That sounds pretentious but I really do believe the arts matter. They matter. And society ignores that fact at its peril.

Clybourne Park is at Park Theatre until 23 April - book tickets here

Photo Credit: Mark Douet