Reflections on Snow...

Here are some random thoughts on the snow events at the Winter Olympics - stream of consciousness style as they occured to me in no particular order.

Alpine Skiing - I watch men's and women's downhill, Super-G and slalom. The speed! The turns! The air! The drones! The events appear to be dominated by Swiss, Germans, Italians, Americans and Canadians (This may be a huge generalisation - but Scandianvians appear to stick to the cross-country events). 

In the Women's Downhill there are multiple stories of broken and fractured bones along with torn and rupputed ACLs. Lindsey Vonn is airlifted/ stretchered off. Breezy Johnson (USA - natch - born Breanna; changed her name just before her high school graduation, legally adopting the nickname given to her by her grandmother) was previoulsy out for 14 months with a broken leg and shattered knee. She makes a big mistake, coming from .03 seconds down to be up by .84, and finally leading by over a second. Snoop Dogg is there and loving it. Emma Aicher (Germany) is 'loose on all the jumps' but still takes silver. The Italian, Sofia Goggia takes bronze to the delight of the home crowd. 'Throwing it down' seems to be the expression of choice. When Frederica Brignone wins the women's Super-G for Italy, the equivalent of the red arrows fly overhead.

There are various 'combined' events, some of which are new to the Olympics, in which athletes perform a couple of disciplines, and sometimes they pair up for no apparent reason (other than it creates an extra medal possibility) and compete as a team. In this manner people do combinations such as downhill and slalom or ski jumping and cross-country.

Incidentally, there are two ski jumps, one called the 'normal' hill and one the 'large hill'. The 'normal' hill looks pretty large to me, and it's an amazing feat full of noise from drones, crowds and the skis on the ramp, and then... wheeee! Look, ma, I'm flying! There is a scandal over the ski-jumping suits, some of which are modified to increase lift by expanding the crotch area. When this was discovered, it led to a rule change at the Olympics including the use of microchips in suits to prevent further cheating, and major scrutiny of the competitors' nether regions.  Obviously, this quickly becomes known as 'penisgate' and delights all the media.

In the skiathlon, the athletes start all together for 10km of classic (in the grooves) and then switch skis for 10km of free (or skate). They push themselves to the edge of their limits, and the race is dominated by Scandinavians with a couple of Canadians and Americans. It ends with gold and silver to the Swedes with Norway taking third place. This is the first of many snow-based battles between these two-nations.

The athleticism on display at the Biathlon Mixed Team Relay is exceptional - how they can sprint that hard and then calm their heart rate that quickly in order to fire that accurately is phenomenal. The event is marred, however, by possibly the most annoying commentator I have ever heard. She sounds like a Kiwi, so her accent is irritating to start with, and then she insists on placing equal emphasis on every single syllable. She may think this makes her sound more dramatic, but as she is simply repeating inane drivel, it is excruciating. 

There is stunning shooting from the biathletes in the women's 7.5km sprint. The winner, Maren Kirkeeide (NOR) and the runner-up, the fabulously named Oceane Michelon (FRA) both shoot completely clean, and there are huge cheers from the crowds for local hero Liza Vittozzi (ITA), who also shoots clean but is 40 seconds behind the leader and ends up in fifth position - Lou Jeanmonnot, also of France, takes bronze. It is tough conditions, snowing hard and very misty; the floodlights are on, sining through the gloom. There are lots of what we used to call French plaits on show (I don't know if they have another name now) and Lithuania have the best outfits. There are 91 finishers in this event including an Aussie, Darcie Morton in 87th place, and a Brit, Shawna Pendry, who comes in at 89th.

In the men's 20km biathlon, the commentator is back and even more annoying than ever. There is drama after third-placed Sturla Holm Laegreid (NOR) uses his post-race interview to confess to cheating on his girlfriend. While the rest of Norway is celebrating their medals in the event - Johan-Olav Botn took gold, while silver went to Eric Perrot from France - Laegreid tells a reporter that he feels he has made the mistake of his life and that he is deeply regretful. He weeps, "I'm taking the consequences for what I've done", and when asked what on earth possessed him to out himself (and her) thus on live TV, he says, "I hope that committing social suicide might show how much I love her." It doesn't. The lady in question replies that the day should have belonged to gold medallist, Botn and that, "It's hard to forgive him. I didn't choose to be put in this position, and it's painful to have to endure it." Personally I feel there are questions to be asked about putting guns into the hands of incredibly fit, accurate, and emotionally volatile young men.

The Nordic Combined Team Sprint has great potential for chaos in the transition/ exchange zone, especially due to the heavy snow conditions and low light. There are wax technicians in the middle of the course and volunteers are sweeping snow off various areas so the athletes can see the coures. People are slipping and falling all over the place, and it looks so cold! In the Women's 4 x 7.5k relay, the Swedish frontrunner on leg 2 trips and breaks her ski - she has to run/ single skate to a pitstop where she can get a new ski. Her team powers back through the field to finish second, with Norway winning and Finland coming third. 

The qualifications, quarter finals, semifinals and final of the X- Country Sprint Classic are all within 4hrs, making this seem like a great event to watch live at the venue. It's a brutal course involving double poling, uphill running, downhill cornering, and throwing one's body to the line. Norwegian Johannes Hosflot Klæbo is a legend of the snow; only three male athletes have more medals than Klæbo at the Winter Olympic Games and they are all Norwegian. He wins another one here, and Norway also get the bronze through Oskar Opstad Vike. Ben Ogden from the USA comes second, making him only the second American man to win an Olympic medal at Winter Games.Klæbo also wins the X-Country Skiing Men's 10km + 10km Skiathlon, and a Brit (Andrew Musgrave) comes 10th, which is very exciting.

In the X-Country Skiing Men's Team Sprint, the Swiss bloke on leg one looses a pole. He calls for one from the technical team; it also breaks and he tosses it aside. The event has two team members who race three laps each. Pueyo from Spain has the second fastest time on the first leg, but his team finishes in last place, 37 seconds behind the leaders. Britain and Australia are still in it after lap one, and Team GB finish in 5th place, which is their best ever result - the Australians come second last. The French bloke looses a pole too and everyone is still close together halfway through lap three when the French bloke looses another pole and gets a yellow card (I'm not sure why). Norway win gold - guess who's in their team. Yep, Klæbo. He powers up the final climb to his tenth gold medal in a phenomenal fashion, and the commentator gushes, "People will forget what you said; they will forget what you did; but they will never forget how you made them feel, and I have just got goosebumps."

King Klæbo goes on to take his sixth gold medal at this Olympic Games in the Men's 50km Mass Start Classic (in which all the podium spots are filled by Norway). This makes him the first man ever to achieve this record, and it is also the most career gold medals (11 in all) won by any Winter Olympic athlete. He now trails only Olympic swimmer Michael Phelps on the list of athletes with the most all-time Olympic gold medals.

The Ski Mountaineering - inevitably shortened to 'skimo' - makes its official Olympic debut here. It looks like fun and extremely hard work, involving climbing 'mountains' (in this case, a technically constructed course) on skis and by foot. The athletes climb rapid ascents using climbing skins, which they them whip off in an unweildly jumping move like some crazy frozen c-rate stripper, to release the sliding ability to get downhill fast. Their ski suits have special pouches, like marsupials, in which to stuff the skins until they are next required. There are also sections on the course where the athletes clip their skis into a backpack and run up steps.

There is no Klæbo in this event so there is a chance for someone else to win a medal. The women's sprint final is won by Marinne Fatton from Switzerland follwed by Emily Harrop from France then Ana Alonso Rodriguez from Spain, while the men's sprint final is won by Oriol Cardona Coll from Spain followed by Nikita Filippov from Russia (sorry, Neutral Athlete) then Thibault Anselmet from France. Unsurprisingly then, the mixed relay is France - gold, Switzerland - silver, and Spain - bronze. There is an Australian chap, Phillip Bellingham, who makes it through to the semi-finals and posts by far the slowest time. The Australian team of Bellingham and lara Hamilton (who came last in her heat) are also the final finishers in the mixed relay. They may look a long way off the pace, but they must be remarkably fit - these athletes are all truly world class.

Friday Five: First Shows of the Year

1. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - Supersonic Australia, The Domain, Sydney: As part of the Wild God Tour, the band played two shows in January featuring a messianic performance by Mr Cave, a 17-piece ensemble, some of the best backing vocals I have head in a long time, and a supporting cast of bats flying overhead at dusk (the lack of Release the Bats from the set was the only disappointment). Nick Cave is a consumate performer, whether belting out fan-favourites Tupelo and O Children or baring his soul with tunes about his dead son, I Need You (with the repeated refrain, 'just breathe') and Joy. Warren Ellis does Warren Ellis things at the side of the stage as Cave roams, struts and surfs about the place, equally comfortable pounding the piano or stroking the keys, his energy through two and a half hours is obvious in every gesture and facial expression. Jubilee Street is a deliverance for the ages, while more mainstream hits Red Right Hand and The Weeping Song invite the crowd to sing along until there is barely a dry eye in the domain by the time he finishes (us) off with Into My Arms.
2. The Book of Mormon - Anne Garfino, Important Musicals and Suzanne Jones, Capitol Theatre, Sydney: A delightful and irreverent pastiche of a show that mocks every genre of musical theatre, cultural hegemony and organised religion while still maintaining a moral code. From the team that brough you South Park comes a musical that skewers itself with outstanding acting, singing, choreography, sets and costumes. From the opening number, Hello! in which we are introduced to a cast of missionaries of the Latter-day Saints, we know there is earnestness up for lampooning. Elders Price (Sean Johnston) and Cunningham (Nick Cox) are paired up and sent to Uganda - not quite the cushy Orlando posting they anticipated. Cue jokes about dictatorship, AIDS, child abuse, blasphemy, and myth making. The songs are memorable and amusing, the sacriligeous Lion-King-inspired Hasa Diga Eebowai and the toe-tapping Turn It Off about supressing unwanted feelings are highlights, and the dream-a-dream ballad Sal Tlay Ka Siti is the version of the song that goes like this (performed by Paris Leveque with wholly convincing naivety in her professional debut). Spooky Mormon Hell Dream is a wonderful excuse to play with props, character and lighting, and the breathtaking audacity of I Am Africa had me wondering how they got away with it. The last word should go to Trey Parker who writes, "There's this line that you can cross all you want as long as you have a reason for doing it. If it has a point and it has a story and it has genuine, real character and emotion, then you can pretty much do whatever you want. There is no line if you're being truthful. We learned that lesson a long time ago."

3. You Tell My Mum I'm Dead - Sunspot Productions, The Courtyard Studio: This is an interesting new work from a promising young writer (Emily O'Mahoney), focussing on the Australian 'schoolies' phenomenom where hoards of 18-year-old school leavers descend on beach towns (particularly the Gold Coast and, in this instance, Bateman's Bay) to celebrate their new-found freedom. Gangs of youths, many of whom are away from parental control and experimenting with excessive drugs and alcohol for the first time, flirt, fight and try to figure out who they want to be as they emerge blinking from the confines of adolesence into the bright lights of adulthood. What could possibly go wrong? Director, Kathleen Dunkerley makes some bold choices in their use of space, light and sound effects, accompanied by straightforward acting decisions as they play to the cast's strengths. We spend time in the company of three young women: Cara (Emily O'Mahoney), whose natural performance and final decisive monolgue capture the insecurity of being on the cusp of womanhood; Max (Breanna Kelly), who brings energy and sincerity to an assured performance with unexpectedly emotional anguish; and Layla (Ainslie Bull), with a metaphoric speech about lambs being led to slaughter which could be the crux of the play if delivered with more power. The commitment and engagement from all involved make this an exciting ensemble to watch in future.
4. La Souris Blanche - ReAction Theatre, Street 2: Nancy Wake was a New-Zealand born Australian nurse and journalist who joined the French Resistance and later the Special Operations Executive during World War II and briefly pursued a postwar career as an intelligence officer in the Air Ministry. Known as the White Mouse, part of her legendary appeal is due to her insistence on maintaining her femininity amidst guerilla warfare, often taking silk nightgowns, Chanel lipstick and red satin pillows on spying missions in the French mountains. This production, written by Christine Croyden and translated by Véronique Duché is performed entirely in French, to immerse the audience in the language and the atmosphere of the resistance. Surtitles as well as wartime images are projected onto sheets hanging from the top of the stage, ripped and layered to provide entrances and exits, suggesting forests, apartments and nightclubs, all while evoking torn parachutes of downed airmen - both practical and imaginative. Nancy herself is performed by Ionna Gagani and Natalia Nour (as young Nancy) as the agent provocateur prepares to receive a belated award from the Australian government and reflects on her life and the choices that led her here. Flashbacks of her training and actions, including learning to kill silently and the consequences of that ability, are executed with passion, wit and candour. Director Louise Howlett doesn't shy away from the violence, while incorporating the romance and an artistic element through song and dance. There is a lot to the story, and this 80-minute play only peels back a partial couche d'oignon, leaving audience members craving more information, which is surely one of the purposes of drama, n'est-ce pas?
5. Bedroom Farce - Canberra Repertory Society, Theatre 3: The play can be pretty dated with its casual references to domestic violence and defined gender roles, as four couples talk about the things that happen behind closed doors. The title is misleading as it is not a farce so much as a sit-com where character interplay matters as much as precision timing. In this, the older couple, Ernest (Pat Gallagher) and Delia (Sally Rynveld) are perfect as the slightly stuffy and bewildered moral compass (think Richard Briers and Penelope Wilton in Ever Decreasing Circles). Their son, Trevor (played with too much posturing and insufficient presence by James Grundoff) has a combative relationship with Susannah (Lara Connolly whose histronics elicit ridicule rather than empathy), who crash the house warming party of practical jokers Malcolm (well-executed bonhomie from Lachlan Abrahams) and Kate (Antonia Kitzel as the centrepiece of the play with a fun and thoughtful performance). Making up the octet are Nick (Rob de Fries has a good line in physical theatre and condescending disdain but is way too old for the role which makes it ick) and Jan (Azerie Cromhout), Trevor's former girlfriend. Although the script frequently mentions her strength and how she would have been a better match for the tempestuous Nick, this is not evident on stage. All the action occurs across a series of bedrooms, delightfully designed by Andrew Kay, showing the character of the couples and allowing continous sightlines and theatrical flow. Despite some good acting and technical elements, the zeitgeist-blind casting of a couple where the man is old anough to be the woman's grandfather and the tone-deaf approach to domestic violence are insurmountable issues.

Ionna Gagani and Natalia Nour as Nancy Wake in La Souris Blanche

Friday Five: Eating and Drinking in Sydney

It was a few weeks ago, but it was memorable, so here are some more highlights of our weekend trip to Sydney, this time of the eating and drinking variety.

1. Arturo's Rooftop/ Woolly Bay Hotel

I love a rooftop bar, and since Cousin Rachael introduced us to Aperol Spritz in Ibizia, we now believe that it's not a holiday until you've had an Aperol Spritz. Arturo's is above the Woolly Bay Hotel and a fine place to sit with an antipasto platter and soak up the atmosphere of Woolloomooloo Bay. Later, we finished another day with a beer in the bar below which was buzzing and had large screens and comfy sofas. We also enjoyed a couple of glasses of wine with duck-fat hand-cut chips around the corner at The Tilbury Hotel, but I didn't take photos. 

2. Encasa
This is a handy stop just round the corner from the Capitol Theatre, where we were going to see a matinee - so we took in lunch and a show. It's a cheerful Spanish taverna which offers tapas, charcuterie and paella. Starting with cocktails while we chose our food, we enjoyed an Agua de Valencia and a Pisco Sour. We felt it was too warm for the rice dish and were concerned that we might nod off after consuming one, although they looked delicious and I'm tempted to return. We shared plates of chorizo a la plancha (grilled spanish sausage), patatas bravas (fired potatoes with spicy tomato and alioli) and croquetas de jamon Iberico (Iberian ham croquettes). The chorizo was a little greasy, the patatas a touch dry and overcooked, but the croquetas were deliciosas; crispy on the outside and gooey creamy goodness on the inside.

3. Burdekin Rooftop

A well-known hang-out on the Sydney Pride route, we stopped here for a refreshment on our way back from the theatre before going out for the evening. It was fairly empty when we visited for our Aperol Spritzes in the Aperitivo Hour, but all the tables were booked for groups later on. The food looks great for sharing, the venue is ideal for feeling part of the party, and the vibe is full-on fun. For example, the Saturday Brunch (1-3pm) offers 'bottomless drinks and delicious food'. What's it called? Spritz or Swallow.

4. Otto Ristorante

At the other end of the spectrum, we treated ourselves to some very fine dining by the water at Finger Wharf at Woolloomooloo Bay. OTTO received One Hat in the 2026 Good Food Guide and is, apparently, one of Sydney's most respected dining institutions. From the website, "The food at OTTO is delicious and unashamedly simple - modern Italian with roots firmly placed in the classics. Head Chef Richard Ptacnik's menu is fresh, seasonal and produce-driven; sourcing the finest ingredients and letting them speak for themselves." 

Naturally, we began with cocktails - Jasmine for me (Campari, Tanqueray gin, Cointreau, lemon, house syrup) - and then chose a bottle of wine to accompany our set menu, Mangia! The cocktails were perfectly dainty but I feel the wine list is a touch on the pretentious and exclusive side, listing all the sommeliers by name, although the Group Sommelier, Amanda Yallop was awarded Sommelier of the Year, so that might just be me. 

The food and the service are exceptional. We chose the three-course sharing menu and were not disappointed - pictures below. It is set in such a perfect location, and I would highly recommend, although maybe save the drinks until afterwards if you don't want to just simply empty your wallet into the bay.

Mortadella, salami, olives, house made grissini

Cannoli, prawn cocktail

Burrata, cherries, pistachio, balsamic, basil

Ricotta gnudi, burnt sage butter, pine nuts, raisins

Conchiglie, smoked Wagyu beef ragù, Parmigiano-Reggiano

Tiramisù

5. Stanley Green, Darlinghurst

Having completed our morning's activity and with an hour or so before our bus returned to Canberra, we stumbled across this place for a glass of wine and a chicken wrap. It presents as a coffee shop by day and moonlights as a wine bar in the evening. With cute little tables outside surrounded by greenery and fairy lights, it is an absolute side-street oasis. The shop is home to an array of indoor plants and all their accessories (such as pots), which can be admired with a cocktail in hand and I'm sure this is a charming place for an after-work tipple in the neighbourhood.

One-Sided Passion in Multidimensional Play: The Deep Blue Sea

The Deep Blue Sea by Terence Rattigan

Nick Hern Books

Pp. 90 

F3; M8

 

The play begins as a young woman, Hester Collyer, has attempted to take her own life, although the gas went out because there wasn’t enough money in the meter. In this respect, it almost commences with an element of black comedy. Hester is discovered by the landlady, Mrs Elton, and the couple from upstairs, Anne and Philip Welch. Mr Miller also gets involved, a mysterious resident of the tenement who may or may not be a doctor. It transpires that Hester is in love with Freddie Page and has left her barrister husband, Sir William Collyer, to be with him, but Freddie doesn’t feel quite the same as she does and is, in fact, alarmed by her physical passion. “He walks forward and kisses her. Instantly she responds, with an intensity of emotion that is almost ugly. After a moment he pushes her away and smacks her playfully.”

 

Freddie was an RAF fighter pilot until an accident curtailed his career, and he has turned to drink, although he still maintains the lingo and bravado. “Funny things about gongs, when you think what a lottery they were. They don’t mean a damn thing in war – except as a line-shoot, but in peacetime they’re quite useful.” When Jackie reminds Freddie that he was “the tops… as a test pilot”, he replies, “I was – a year ago. Since then things have changed a bit. (He points to his glass.) This stuff isn’t exactly what the doctor ordered for nerve and judgment. Besides I’m too ruddy old. You’re finished in that racket at twenty-five. I wouldn’t last a week. I want something chairborne – not airborne. I’ve had flying for life.” His staccato speech is in sharp contrast to Hester’s stillness, and when he first enters, her simple responses which are made without her once turning to meet Freddie’s eye, creates a cruelly ironic effect distancing Freddie from the audience’s sympathy.

 

The play takes place in one room, over the course of one day, follows one narrative, and as noted by Dan Rebellato in the introduction, “almost no violent action occurs on stage. This unshowy preservation of the Aristotelian unities perhaps subtly encourages an audience to expect a tragic ending.” Instead, there is a final glimmer of hope, and many contemporary critics felt cheated. Miller thinks Hester may some talent in her painting which might become a little flame. “Not a great fire, which could have illumined the world – oh no – I’m not saying that. But the world is a dark enough place for even a little flicker to be welcome.” Rebellato champions the play: “The story of Hester Collyer, trapped in a relationship with a man incapable of returning her love, and her transition from attempted suicide to groping, uncertain self-determination is handled with extraordinary economy, precision and power. The depths of despair and desire that Rattigan plumbs have made The Deep Blue Sea one of his most popular and moving pieces.” Other reviewers feel it is a brutally bleak meditation on the cruel consequences of one skirmish between sexual desire and social repression.

 

Rattigan was known for putting character ahead of ideas, and for themes of sexual longing and humiliation. Hester knows that Freddie loves her as much as he ever did, which means that he doesn’t. He’s not a bad man, but she is passionate about him and that is not socially acceptable for women in this era. In this respect, the play in similar to Look Back in Anger to which it is often compared, usually unfavourably. When asked what he thought about Osborne’s Look Back in Anger, Rattigan replied that it should have been retitled, ‘Look how unlike Terence Rattigan I’m being.’ Hester is a tough character to play without being mawkish, maudlin or melodramatic. She could also be self-pitying and dull or hard and matter of fact. It’s a fine balance. Hester explains, “When you’re between any kind of devil and the deep blue sea, the deep blue sea sometimes looks very inviting.”

 

Freddie tells his mate, Jackie Jackson, “A clergyman’s daughter, living in Oxford, marries the first man who asks her and falls in love with the first man who gives her an eye. (After a slight pause.) Hell, it’s not that I’m not in love with her too, of course I am. Always have been and always will. But – well – moderation in all things – that’s always been my motto. (At the table.) Have another?” Another touch of black humour in that he is immoderate in drink, while glibly discussing his lover’s broken heart. Freddie thinks only of himself, while accusing others of being selfish. “Supposing she’d pulled it off last night, do you realise what everyone would have said? That I’d bust up a happy marriage, and then driven Hes to suicide. I’d have been looked on as a ruddy murderer. Did she think of that, I wonder? Who the hell would have believed what I’ve just told you?” He is the conventional one, while Hester risks being a social outcast through her honesty. When having a disagreement with her husband, she says, “There are polite words and impolite words. They all add up to the same emotion.”

 

Collyer tells Hester that he would happily take her back and that he is even more in love with her than he was “on our wedding day.” He tells her that Freddie is reprehensible, with which the audience agrees. “This man you say you love is morally and intellectually a mile your inferior and has absolutely nothing in common with you whatever; what you’re suffering from is no more than an ordinary and rather common infatuation; and it’s your plain and simple duty to exert every effort of will you’re capable of in order to return to sanity at once.” She despairs that her husband cannot understand how she feels. “In sober truth neither you nor I nor anyone else can explain what I feel for Freddie. It’s all far too big and confusing to be tied up in such a neat little parcel and labelled lust. Lust isn’t the whole of life – and Freddie is, you see, to me. The whole of life – and of death, too, it seems. Put a label on that, if you can.” She will not return to Collyer, as she tells him, “I’m simply a prized possession that has now become more prized for having been stolen.”

 

Michael Billington wrote of The Deep Blue Sea, that it is “as timelessly true as Phèdre in its portrait of the inequality of passion.” Dan Rebellato considers that “Rattigan has placed Hester between her father the clergyman, her husband the judge, and her lover, the ex-airman; Hester’s sexuality is policed by a repressive triad of church, law and the army.” Philip attempts to take charge of the situation by telling Hester, “Without trying to be preachy or anything, it is really the spiritual values that count in this life, isn’t it? I mean the physical side is really awfully unimportant – objectively thinking, don’t you think?” A lot of the humour is at Philip’s expense, and he is so uptight and pompous that he doesn’t notice. When he lectures Hester by recounting his own experience – “I went away for a fortnight all by myself – and of course I had hell, but gradually things sort of got clearer in my mind, and when I got back I was out of the wood.” – she replies, “I’m so glad. Where was it you went?” His answer, Lyme Regis, deflates him and his specious argument.

 

Meanwhile, Miller appears to be the only one who can relate, as he counsels Hester, “To see yourself as the world sees you may be very brave, but it can also be very foolish. Why should you accept the world’s view of you as a weak-willed neurotic – better dead than alive? What right have they to judge? To judge you they must have the capacity to feel as you feel. And who has? One in a thousand. You alone know how you have felt. And you alone know how unequal the battle has always been that your will has had to fight.” This is also a caution to the audience. Miller is amused that Ann should concern herself about Hester’s mental state, when she is physically unharmed. “You make that distinction? Her mind is perfectly sound. There is no trace whatever of any psychotic symptoms which might justify a certificate of insanity.” When Ann asks what made her try to kill herself, Miller answers “(after a slight pause) She wanted to die, I suppose.” Again, this hints at black comedy, although he suspects she “probably will try again, and try again very soon.”

There has been considerable criticism levelled at Rattigan (as there is to E.M. Forster in The Inheritance) that he wasn’t open enough about his sexuality – it was illegal to be homosexual – and that he writes coded characters, such as Mr Miller. Many people at the time (and me) thought that the reason Miller couldn’t practice as a doctor was because he had performed an abortion (also illegal), but modern interpretation believes it is because he was discovered to be gay. Attempted suicide was also illegal in the 1950s. Miller insists he is not a doctor although he has all the credentials, and he mocks Collyer with his understanding of patient confidentiality. “Yes, I’ve heard of it. It’s much the same as the English schoolboy’s code, isn’t it? No sneaking.”

 

Rattigan had a relationship with a man who tried to end his life through gassing himself and failed – but this doesn’t mean that he has made Hester a male stand-in and written in code about homosexuality. It is a lot deeper and more complex than that, as Rebellato explains, “Homosexuality, then, was explored and experienced through a series of semi-hidden, semi-open codes of behaviour; the image of the iceberg, with the greater part of its bulk submerged beneath the surface, was frequently employed. And this image is, of course, one of the metaphors often used to describe Rattigan’s own playwriting.” He is criticised for smuggling furtively homosexual themes into his plays and for lacking the courage to confess to his sexuality both in his plays and his writing – the devil and the deep blue sea, indeed.

 

The fear and repression in palpable. In his obituary of Rattigan, Michael Billington wrote, “His whole work is a sustained assault on English middle class values; fear of emotional commitment, terror in the face of passion, apprehension about sex.” Rebellato argues, “There are traces of gay experience running through The Deep Blue Sea. The set itself strongly captures the continual fear of exposure felt by so many homosexual men and women. The room with a communal stairwell right outside the door is positioned to encourage a constant awareness of surveillance, with characters perusing each other’s letters, exchanging gossip, and overhearing one another’s conversations.”

 

The letter Hester writes to Freddie is passed around and becomes a plot device, typical of the ‘well-made play’. Rebellato feels, “There is a fluidity and subtlety in the way that Rattigan has the suicide note pass from the mantlepiece to the Welches, then into the pocket of Hester’s dressing gown, and finally into the hands of Freddie. Rattigan expertly misdirects us, so that we have forgotten about the letter, until Freddie’s desire for a cigarette leads him to stumble across it... The same confidence and theatrical economy marks Rattigan’s use of the shilling which Freddie cruelly offers Hester, ‘Just in case I’m late for dinner’, and which lies on the table until Hester picks it up in preparation for her second suicide attempt. Through these devices… Rattigan not only creates a satisfyingly taut theatrical unity, but reminds us of the dangerous atmosphere in which these characters live, in which everything is charged with meaning, and where objects and actions are constantly scrutinised, judged and battled over.” If we can stop comparing this to Osborne (as if they were both trying to write the same play) and appreciate it for its own merit, we must conclude that this is a very fine play indeed.