Sunday 17 November 2013

Week #17 : 'The Room' by Harold Pinter


My first play was The Room, written when I was twenty-seven.  A friend of mine called Henry Woolf was a student in the drama department at Bristol University at the time when it was the only drama department in the country. He had the opportunity to direct a play, and as he was my oldest friend he knew I'd been writing, and he knew I had an idea for a play, though I hadn't written any of it. I was acting in rep at the time, and he told me he had to have the play the next week to meet his schedule.  I said this was ridiculous; he might get it in six months. And then I wrote it in four days.”  

Influenced by Samuel Beckett (and not being introduced to Ionesco until he had written a few plays), Pinter attributes him and Franz Kafka as being the most captivating literary voices in his own world of writing.

The first play written by Harold Pinter was titled 'The Room'.  Taking only 4 days to write in 1957 when he was homeless, always on tour with a Repertory Stage Company performing in small dingy theatres around provincial cities and small out-of-the-way seaside villages.

'The Room' is One Act play set in a single room in the house of Bert Hudd and Rose.
Rose dominates the conversation whilst making breakfast (yet it seems to be dark out with stars present, making the audience wonder if it really is day or night) for Bert with very... small.... talk....
"It's very cold out, I can tell you.  It's murder."
"Just now I looked out of the window.  It was enough for me.  There wasn't a soul about.  Can you hear the wind?"
Rose discusses (single handedly) the new tenants that live in the basement of the house.  We are given no stage directions for Bert, but can safely assume that he sits at the kitchen table ignoring all that Rose is saying whilst reading his magazine.  She continues the one sided conversation musing about the people living downstairs and the prospect of Bert going outside in the cold weather to drive on the icy roads. And she talks... and talks..... and talks......
Suddenly there is a knock at the door.  Mr Kidd drops by to let them know that he has been looking at the pipes.  Rose chimes in about the weather (again!) and they have a pleasant chit-chat.  (So far, we can really see the influence of Beckett here and the start of the conversations that happen in the 'The Dumb Waiter' which I previously blogged about.)
As per Absurdist theatre techniques, there is frequent repetitions in the dialogue.  Rose continually says to Bert "I'll have some cocca on when you get back."  also "Don't go too fast" - in relation to his driving on the icy roads.
After some more dialogue from Rose and ignorance by Bert, we meet Mr and Mr Sands, the basement dwellers!  In this initial conversation Mrs. Sands repeats the phrase from Rose earlier on "It's murder out."  and again we are given another Absurdist technique of misheard lines.  There is a confusion as to who the landlord is : Kidd or Hudd.

After Mrs Sands finishing telling Rose about how they came to rent the room below... by walking into a dark room and hearing a voice telling them that the room was free, Rose states that Mr Kidd said earlier that all the rooms were taken.  Mrs Sands responds saying that the 'voice' told her and her husband that room seven was free.  "That's this room" Rose responds.
(It is all becoming very Ionesco's 'Bald Soprano' at this point in the script!) 
Just then Mr Kidd comes into the room and Rose accuses him of renting the room to the Sands.  
Mr Kidd tells Rose that there is a man in the basement that knows her and she must go and speak to him immediately.  This man refuses to talk to anyone but Rose.  Mr Kidd fetches him and we are introduced to a 'Blind Negro' - as it states in the script.  We soon learn his name is Riley and that he has a message for Rose - 'Your father wants you to come home."
Riley starts to call Rose - Sal .  At this moment Bert arrives home regaling Rose of his tales on the road driving 'her' back.  (This is never referenced again...)  
Bert sees Riley sitting on the chair at the table, he looks at him for a coupleof moments , and with his foot lifts the chair up dislodging Riley, whom falls to the floor.  "Mr. Hudd, your wife - " Riley begins to say, and to this Bert strikes him, knocking him down, kicks his head against the stove a couple of times and walks away.  
Rose closes the play yelling "Can't see.  I can't see.  I can't see."


Throughout the play we are surrounded by fear.  Fear of the outside, fear of other people, fear of losing others, fear of losing oneself.
We are also blurred by the elements.  It is cold and dark outside.  Rose is cooking up breakfast foods.  No one seems to want to stand near the fire to warm up, yet they eventually gravitate that way.  
Rose is seen to be the dominate character due to her dialogue at the beginning if the script.  She is making all the conversation, delivering food and making sure that her husband is well fed, warm and has a jacket to wear on his trip. No one seems to be in control in the middle section of the play - Rose does not know why Mr  Kidd has come to visit. Mr Kidd is dependent on Rose to get rid of the blind man downstairs. Mr and Mrs Sands are not sure whether they have come up or are going down stairs, not to mention that they don't even know who the landlord is. 

This is a perfect example of Absurdism at its greatest.  Limited character profiles, disjointed scenes, repetition of lines and no knowledge of their place in their world.


To sum up quite nicely, a word from Pinter on seeing his first play in it's first performance...

“It was the process of writing a play that had started me going. Then I went to see The Room, which was a remarkable experience. Since I'd never written a play before, I'd of course never seen one of mine performed, never had an audience sitting there. The only people who'd ever seen what I'd written had been a few friends and my wife. So to sit in the audience—well, I wanted to piss very badly throughout the whole thing, and at the end I dashed out behind the bicycle shed.” 



Next Week: 'Falling Petals' by Ben Ellis

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