fLorian Zeller’s brand of psychological theater, in which broken inner states are expressed through form, is undeniably sophisticated. Like his Oscar-winning film The Father (adapted from his play), this tale of infidelity scrambles chronology, mixing memory with fantasy to prove the slippery nature of reality. Part of its charm lies in decoding, though it remains debatable whether style wins over substance here.
The story is a moral one – of infidelity and its consequences – presented in the form of a detective story. It revolves around Pierre, a respected surgeon whose affair is throwing him off balance, possibly murderously.
On stage he is a split self, divided by guilt and subterfuge, and his dominant half, Man 1, is brilliantly portrayed by Toby Stephens alongside Man 2 (Paul McGann). “Scenes play out in your head over and over again,” he says, and they do the same on stage, each time with small variations so that no truth can be pinned down. Stephens has a casual claim but also nuances of Dostoyevsky’s Raskolnikov in his secret desire to be caught, confess and be punished.
Translated by Zeller’s longtime collaborator Christopher Hampton, The Forest is masterfully executed and compelling to watch, but without the emotional depth and power of The Father. A puzzle with a missing piece, the story allows us to project our own meaning into its gaps, but even then it feels a little flat at times and is too tied into Zeller’s signature style, which feels like a similarly repetitive one game is playing.
Brilliantly played… Toby Stephens and Silas Carson in The Forest. Photo: Richard Davenport
It carries the intrigue of a thriller but also draws on clichés of the genre: the anonymous phone calls, the loose gun of a lover, the quietly suspicious wife. Every woman on stage is not only betrayed, but blunted, especially the lover (Angel Coulby), whose obsessive impulses veer into the “Bunny Boiler” stereotype. The wife (excellently played by Gina McKee) also deliberately acts as a cipher. This may well reflect the reduced way in which Man 1 sees them, but they lack credibility as a result.
Whatever its flaws, we can’t help but be seduced by this production. McKee sends shivers down the spine in the play’s final moments, and the rest of the cast is strong throughout, notably a whey-faced surreal interrogator played by controlled-threat Finbar Lynch.
Elegantly directed by Jonathan Kent, every element of the stagecraft shines and delights. Rooms with sparkling surprises shine out of the darkness: the lover’s bedroom above the family drawing room, an office space where dreams are aired and grubby bargains are made. A single, monotonous fear in Isobel Waller-Bridge’s sound design buzzes through the drama. Hugh Vanstone’s lighting is striking, and Anna Fleischle’s naturalistic set design is a good counterpoint to the play’s distorted reality.
The three spaces gradually begin to connect, capturing most effectively the simultaneity of the moment that Zeller so often seems to strive for.
The end does not come into the catharsis of a thriller, but has a ghostly effect during the break – as if it were repeating its inner conflict even after leaving the auditorium.
If this is all elaborate debt research, it’s guaranteed to spark a fevered discussion after the lights come on, even if they’re gone by the next morning.
At the Hampstead Theatre, London, until March 12th.
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