The Train Driver seeks solace & redemption
All the basic condition theatre requires is that fire last night & those costumes
& the human voice & people gathered together.
Sir Trevor Nunn, Director (Cats, 1981 \ Les Miserables, 1985)
How the play came to be : The play by Athol Fugard stemmed from a 2000 newspaper report he read in the Cape Town weekly Mail and Standard about
a woman and her three children whom she herded onto the tracks so all
would die. Fugard was subsequently interviewed in Cape Town by Celia
Duggar of the New York Times in March, 2010 about his play The Train Driver set to premiere there. The article was titiled, aptly, "Driving Out Apartheid's Ghost". (N.B. As noted in BLR's review of Valley Song, the correct Afrikaans pronunciation of the word apartheid says it all about the intent of South Africa's racist political policy : apart-hate.)
Fugard told the Times "I
cannot fathom a darkness so deep that a human being can finally say
'There is no hope'." The play was written, he said, as a symbolic,
metaphorical act of "claiming" the memory of the desperate woman from
the Cape Town squatter's camp who suicided 10 years earlier, one Pumla
Lolwana. But all his plays in fact aim "to claim people," he said, "to not allow them to pass on into oblivion, trying to bear witness." (Simon's second job is to protect the "sleeping" from packs of feral dogs who are ravenous and want to eat their remains. These, the nameless ones never claimed from the morgue, not even mamas who had babies in tow.)
To affirm his artistic intents Fugard shared with the Times a letter sent him by an American theatric friend from L.A., Stephen Sacks. Sachs wrote to Fugard that his oeuvre represents
"a life long internal struggle" about being of Boer heritage during the
apart-hate years. "White guilt," Sachs said, "white shame. Digging up
the bones of the nameless black dead. Trying to make sense of it. Give
it meaning." He meant it endearingly, not laying on guilt or sarcasm.
What the show brings to the stage : Empathy
can result from the act of stepping into another's shoes and walking
their journey a bit. But probably not possible, say, for
Auschwitz survivors to do vis-a-vis their Nazi deathcamp
guards. Analogously, playwright Fugard is betimes assailed by critics for
focusing so much on white S.A. guilt rather than shining more light on
the plight and the experience of the country's blacks. Not a "theft of voice" issue in the least. Rather a bio-racial impossibility.
Thus the show that results. Focused more on Roelf's agonies than Simon's repression. There is more dramatic monologue
and soliloquy by Roelf than actual dialogue with Simon, but enough of both to make it all work. Train driver Visagie
-- its Latin loosely meaning "look at us" -- tries ardently,
anxiously to get his soul closer to guru Adyashanti's timeless challenge : "No
more battle against yourself. No more battle with life. No more battle
with others. No more battle with God."
But
expiation and atonement don't ever come easily. Roelf (Paul
Herbert) is possessed by the death of the woman he calls Red Doek. That name he's given this unknown woman because of the red scarf he spotted her wearing just before the locomotive crushed
her and her infant babe strapped to her back. That image continues to haunt and plague and obsess him,
keep him up night after night, give him tremors and wicked painful
dreams. His dreams cause him to terrorize his family at Christmastime shortly after Red Doek's horrific death. Mom locks the kids behind her bedroom door.
Gravedigger Simon Hanabe (Pasi Clayton Gunguwo) fears for Roelf's safety as the lone white in the desperate squatters' shantytown cum graveyard. Teen-age gangs from the tin-&-paper shacks next door will surely cause trouble, he frets. Still he is a kindly chap and provides a sounding board for Roelf's doleful cries and protests to bounce off of. Vintage stuff. Trying to plea bargain his people's sordid and shameful past Athol Fugard has been doing -- prolifically -- since 1956 : The Train Driver is his 35th play script.
Gravedigger Simon Hanabe (Pasi Clayton Gunguwo) fears for Roelf's safety as the lone white in the desperate squatters' shantytown cum graveyard. Teen-age gangs from the tin-&-paper shacks next door will surely cause trouble, he frets. Still he is a kindly chap and provides a sounding board for Roelf's doleful cries and protests to bounce off of. Vintage stuff. Trying to plea bargain his people's sordid and shameful past Athol Fugard has been doing -- prolifically -- since 1956 : The Train Driver is his 35th play script.
Acting pin-spots : Background reading about The Train Driver from productions elsewhere did not prepare me sufficiently. I got considerably more from the UPV tonight than I had anticipated would be up for offer.
What no review or Fugard interview prepared me for was the anger train driver Roelf Visagi felt at
his nameless victims. He storms into the Shukuma burial ground outside Port Elizabeth once he learns from the district mortician that his
victims were buried there just a month before.
He is hyperventiling : "I want to swear at her and let her know she is a
piece of black shit. So her ghost will hear me, so she'll know how she
has fucked up my life, the selfish black bitch. Help me!" he demands of the threatened and bemused gravedigger. Director Adam Henderson in his notes makes a seemingly paradoxical observation that may be true here : "It is hard not to despise someone you know you have wronged. I think we struggle (even if unconsciously) with this dissonance between our self-image and our history."
Reolf then collapses on the sandy, rocky burial turf and emits agonized cries that go on & on & on & on. His performance in this, right at my feet, was more convincing & true-to-life despair than I believe I have ever witnessed on
any Vancouver stage in 40 years. By the end of the play, meanwhile, he has
softened and mellowed and is beginning to embrace Adyshanti's challenge. Simply superb, sustained character acting by Mr. Herbert, a previous Jessie nominee.
For his part, Mr. Gunguwo's two most priceless moments were his giddy description of catching the beeg fish with his two dogs when he was a kid. Also the lullaby his mama sang to him "Toola, mama, toola, toola mama...!" that he sings to soothe Reolf's tortured and confused and wondering self along with its accompanying voodoo-esque dance.
A word or two on the production : Three minor bickers with the show. (1) My customary kvetch that Vancouver actors shout-out and and overemphasize swear words. Gosh, if only they'd effen learn this [instead of effen learn this...]. (2) While just 75 minutes of dramatic action in the entire play, inexplicably there
was a 15 minute intermission some 50 minutes along into the piece. The break should be
axed to preserve the dramatic arc & energy Fugard intended. (3) Why the choice to have most of Simon's final two-minute soliloquy done by recorded play-back while he stands mute on an overturned bucket. This made no dramatic sense to me -- it was gimmicky & distracting.
Still, mere quibbles each and every point raised here.
Director Henderson's casting choices and staging of his 2-man troupe were otherwise keenly done.
Who gonna like : When the esteemed Mr. Fugard told the NYT his
entire career was intended to crescendo and climax with this script, he was spot
on. The Train Driver projects powerful pain that attempts to extinguish itself at first through rant and rage but, ultimately, finds a bit of redemption.
Redemption that starts through the recognition of what sheer untempered
futility looks like in the few final seconds you stare at it
face-to-face. And to acknowledge your role in creating that life-ending
futility and hopelessness that you at last recognize.
These are gripping, moving moments of small-stage theatre that are rich & compelling and find Fugard, no question, at his finest.
Particulars : Written by Athol Fugard. Produced by The United Players of Vancouver. At their home venue the Jericho Arts Centre, 1675 Discovery Street. From March 24-April 16. Tickets & schedule information via 604.224.8007, Ext 2 or CLICK HERE. Run-time 90 minutes including a 15-minute intermission.
Production team : Director Adam Henderson. Set Designer John R. Taylor. Properties Designer and Producer Linda Begg. Technical Director and Lighting Designer Michael Methot. Sound Designer Zakk Harris. Costume Designer Catherine E. Carr. Stage Manager Maria Denholme. Technical Manager Ryan Yee. Assistant Director Alan Brodie. Sound Assistant Aya Yuhura. United Players of Vancouver Artistic Director Andree Karass.
Performers : Pasi Clayton Gunguwo (Simon Hanabe, gravedigger). Paul Herbert (Reolf Visagie, seeker).
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