Magic in this fine madness
Mental illness is a difficult subject for the theatre, because finding a dramatic path between impenetrability and over-clarification requires delicate tightrope walking. That's why Equus, with its wretched psychoanalytical recapitulations of everything that happens in it, is among the worst of plays. No such danger here. Nina Pearce's Broken Colour, a drama of anxiety and ecstasy, is a considerable achievement.
Pearce is always in control of her subject matter and her characters, and she lets them do the talking. She unlocks the psychoses of the artist Olivia (Hannah Day) and the psychiatric patient Eliza (Caris Eves) with rare clarity and care. The connection between them is Gareth (James Helm), Olivia's husband and Eliza's psychiatrist, and director Michael McCall steers the action between the two relationships with practised skill.
Olivia and Gareth's eight-year marriage had been a success but suddenly she's off the rails, unable to make progress in the important things in her life, her career and Gareth's wish for a child.
Eliza is institutionalised, medicated and manic. She's visionary, psychic and deep in ecstatic delusion. Both women need Gareth to be strong, empathetic and (in Eliza's case) detached, to help them through. The quality of the characters is as much about the temptations Pearce avoids - especially in Gareth's relationship with his patient - than the opportunities she takes.
Helm and Day give persuasive performances (Day is perhaps a little too emphatic at times) and Eves is a revelation. She's a surpassingly beautiful actress but it's her control of Eliza's runaway thoughts and emotions, the way she shows her unhinged joy in her eyes and mouth, that impresses most. It's a star-is-born performance.
The Boat Goes over the Mountain is a dramatic monologue by Andrew Hale about his journey to South America with the sole intention of ingesting ayahuasca, a psychedelic concoction reputed to be a path to self- knowledge. (The title refers to the Werner Herzog film Fitzcarraldo, set in the same Peruvian city of Iquitos.)
Hale, a considerable theatre artist, relates his Amazonian odyssey to us with the help of musician Dave Richardson. I've no doubt he sincerely believes it makes for an interesting and insightful drama. And perhaps it could, but Hale's spasmodic narrative (for example, his luggage fails to arrive in Iquitos, but there are no consequences; indeed, it isn't even mentioned again) and lack of interaction with the play's location are serious shortcomings.
In any event, I suspect that if I wanted to trip for nine days and vomit a lot (I lost count of how many times Hale does), I'd prefer to hole up in a shack somewhere much closer to home with a bag of magic mushrooms and The Dark Side of the Moon. And I think I'd keep the results to myself.
