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The Year of Magical Thinking review |
National Theatre |
Directed by David Hare
THE YEAR OF MAGICAL THINKING
National Theatre
BY December 2003, Joan Didion had been married to John Dunne for 40 years.
They were regarded, in their particularly literary world, as the best rewriters in the film world. Their only child, Quintana, was in hospital suffering from the prolonged consequences of pneumonia, with pernicious side effects.
Joan and John were about to have their last dinner. Heart attack felled him and he died very shortly afterwards.
This buttoned-up woman, a control freak, had to manage her grief. She wrote an account of it which became a bestseller in the States; that was The Year of Magical Thinking, an engrossing account of her inner madness or, as she calls it, “her crazy period”. She did an exhausting tour and, I suppose, being generous, one could see it as her way of dealing with bereavement.
Eighteen months after John, Quintana died. This is the essential content of the play. David Hare, the director, persuaded Didion to write in Quintana. Dealing with a tough veteran of the New York/Hollywood writing world, he has succeeded brilliantly.
Of course, Vanessa Redgrave is spellbinding. Alone, she holds the stage for almost two hours with one prop, a chair, and simple evocative designs by Bob Crowley. It is an amazing piece of acting: tall, elegant, a constant dealing out of warmth and humanity. She convinced me, at least, that she was the diminutive Joan, fighting off the signs and acceptance of the most profound emotional pain most of us have suffered or will suffer.
This is acting of an almost overpowering effect. Beneath that bold exterior that shouts “no” to tears, Redgrave gets to the root of Joan Didion.
This is not an intrusion into private grief, but a brilliant illumination of a woman who eventually understands her vulnerable humanity.
Once again, our greatest woman actress proves how electrifying she can be, particularly when she calls down with pity to the hardest of hearts.
Few of those left in the audience at the end were not touched by the troubles and loneliness of Joan Didion.
Until July 15
CNJ Booking line
0870 040 0070
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