Siân Phillips and Charlotte Emmerson take a Beckettian look at age and memory in two of the playwright's lesser known short plays.
Samuel Beckett is no stranger to Jermyn Street Theatre. In 2012, Trevor Nunn's All That Falls went on to become an international hit and 2020 saw Beckett Triple Bill with Nunn at the helm again. But times have changed and post-pandemic theatre (although one could say we're not there yet) - as much as it strives to be the same as before - is different. And Beckett can be very dark. There's something almost morbid in doing these two lesser known short plays at the moment, but it works so well.
Directed by Richard Beecham, Footfalls & Rockaby is a ghostly reminder of the weight of being. In 40 brief minutes, Beecham brings to the stage Charlotte Emmerson as May, who walks up and down a corridor haunted by both life and death, and Siân Phillips, whose rocking chair motion lulls her to her passing.
The two pieces (and the two women) coexist alongside each other in Simon Kenny's set design. White neon lights line a raised walkway, long enough for Emmerson to take the nine steps required by Beckett and diligently counted by her mother, and cage Phillips's rocking chair.
With the rest of the stage and auditorium painted jet black and Ben Ormerod's minimal lighting design, the actors feel like they were sketched in white on black paper. They're shadows of their own selves, slowly spiralling towards the end of their memories.
May's pacing becomes both penance and relaxation in her (perhaps imaginary) conversation with her mother (Phillips on tape). She hugs herself feebly - difficult to say whether in fear or comfort - and as time passes and her character evaporates in isolation, battling her own mind, her light coloured tattered cardigan suggests a straightjacket.
Beecham toys with ephemerality, tying Rockaby to the previous piece with a haunting rendition of the traditional lullaby. Phillips's presence on the scene is spectral from start to finish. She sits in the moving chair, eyes semiclosed, listening to her recorded voice recounting her mother's life and hers, only joining to demand more motion.
It's a beautiful pairing. Somehow it feels right to have this profound Beckettian look at mortality just when the weather's turning cold.
Photo credit: Steve Gregson
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