strange and random happenstance: Set Design

The Price of Salt by Patricia Highsmith
Published by: Dover Publications
Publication Date: 1952
Format: Kindle, 260 Pages
Rating: ★★
To Buy (different edition than one reviewed)

Therese Belivet moved to New York in the hopes of being a set designer. But waiting and hoping and making models doesn't pay the bills so she is working at Frankenberg's department store during the holiday season. She's in the toy section selling dolls and is oppressed by the noise of the toy train by the elevators, the din of the customers, and the general chaos that working in retail entails. Her life is a grind, a depressing mix of cafeteria meals and hoping her boyfriend Richard comes through with a job opportunity for her in the theater after Christmas. All this changes when she sees Carol. Carol Aird comes into Frankenberg's to buy a doll for her daughter. The doll is to be sent to Carol's home in New Jersey and the address is emblazoned on Therese's heart. She doesn't know what possesses her but after Carol leaves she rushes to send her a card. Carol calls the store, intrigued by being sent a card from an employee of Frankenberg's. She wonders if this is common practice but learns that it, and the girl who sent it, are not in the least common. Carol is going through a divorce and is separated from her daughter Rindy for the holiday season so she takes in Therese like a stray. They drive around together, sit for hours doing nothing, listening to music, having dinners out, even getting a Christmas tree for which Therese makes all the decorations. They are fast friends. As Therese muses, "It would be almost like love, what she felt for Carol, except that Carol was a woman." But women can love. And that's one of the reasons that Carol is being kept away from Rindy. The divorce isn't going well because of something that happened in her past with her friend Abby. But what Therese feels, Abby could never have felt. As Carol and Therese take to the open road the future is wide open but their past is closing in.

The Price of Salt is a classic of lesbian fiction and it's easy to see why; two women fall in love and are given a chance at a happily ever after. This was something unheard of in literature of the time as it defied all tropes of the genre. Which makes it an important book even if it's a very flawed book. The problem is that both characters are enigmas. They are ciphers. Neither really shows themself to the other fully. We have full insight into Therese's fractured and half finished thoughts as the story is from her point of view but Carol is a conundrum. Yes, I know that they are two people dancing around a taboo subject and it isn't until their trip that they take the risk to finally put their feelings into words and actions, but this makes most of the book an almost excruciating read. It isn't just a "will they won't they" situation it's a Waiting for Godot level situation. And if you're not in the mood for that level of interminable fatalism, well, then this book might not be for you. For the most part it wasn't for me until it was. Because buried among all the things not done and said all of a sudden there's this heart of gold. Yes, I'm saying The Price of Salt should have been a road trip novella. Therese and Carol finally being a couple, just touring the country, oddly skipping Wisconsin on the way from Rockford to Minneapolis, I mean, who seriously goes via Iowa, is a delight. They take pictures and do things normal couples do, they talk, they love, and we learn more about them in these few chapters than in the whole rest of the book. Plus Highsmith, with her accomplished crime fiction background, has this delicious foreboding building. Could they be being followed? Has Carol's husband given her enough rope to hang herself? All the while there's that gun in Carol's suitcase and you can't help but wonder, will it be used? Could Highsmith be going for a dark ending for our lovers? Because literature of the day demands it. When she taps the breaks, that's when you realize what a genius she is. Just not a genius at editing.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments

Labels: Carol, Carol Aird, Christmas, Crime Fiction, Divorce, Frankenberg's, HEA, Lesbian, LGBTQIA+, Love, Novella, Patricia Highsmith, Pride, Set Design, The Price of Salt, Theater, Therese Belivet, Tropes, Waiting for Godot

Frankenstein
Based on the book by Mary Shelley
Starring: Benedict Cumberbatch, Jonny Lee Miller, Ella Smith, John Killoran, Steven Elliot, Lizzie Winkler, Karl Johnson, Daniel Millar, Naomie Harris, George Harris, Mark Armstrong, John Stahl, amd Andreea Paduraru
Release Date: March 17th, 2011
Rating: ★★★
Unavailable

The creature is born. Abandoned at birth to find his legs, his voice, his reason for being, all on his own. Like a newborn colt he twitches and flails, stumbles and tumbles, grass, rain, they give him joy. Fire brings warmth and danger. What is sustenance? What is cruelty? Is it the pain at the hands of others? He spies on a family, they show him love and compassion. The de Laceys are good if poor. The young couple's father, blind to the horror of the creature's physiognomy, teaches him to read and shows him true kindness. They hold discourses on philosophy and the meaning of life. The Creature has hope, soon destroyed by de Lacey's son Felix and daughter-in-law Agatha. They view the creature as a monster. So the creature will show them what a monster he is. He burns their home to the ground while they sleep. This act signals to the monster that it is time to meet his creator. The man responsible for making and then abandoning him, Victor Frankenstein; whose life of privileged perfection is about to come crumbling down around him. Don't make a deal with a devil if you aren't prepared for the consequences.

While I would like to be one of those people who when hearing their favorite actor is in a play can jump on a plane and go see them wherever the production is I am sadly not one of those people. Oh how I was tempted though by Danny Boyle bringing Frankenstein to the stage with two of my favorite actors, Benedict Cumberbatch and Jonny Lee Miller. But thankfully there's this thing called National Theatre Live which brings the most popular of British Theatre to cinemas around the world, a real boon for this Cumberbitch. So while I couldn't afford a trip to England, I could easily afford a few movie tickets. In fact because of the conceit of Benedict and Jonny switching roles every night I bought tickets to both showings, but after seeing it the one time with Benedict as the Creature, I knew I couldn't watch it again. It's not that it's bad, it's that it's very intense. It has this visceral quality that is so relentless that even though it's been quite a few years since I have seen it this production is still seared into my mind. Like the light bulbs flashing on the stage, it's afterimage is still on my retina.

As anyone who has read Frankenstein will tell you the center, the spine of the book, if you will, is the Creature's story. Therefore this production wisely decided to follow the Creature's journey, and leave Victor where he belongs, as a minor part, not the star. This also worked well for the staging with Benedict and Jonny switching roles each night. The Creature is a rather physically demanding role and to be able to have respite and be Victor every other night, not even showing your face until almost half way through the show, must be a blessing. But it's more than just that, this conceit gets to the heart of what Frankenstein is about. The book by Shelley is about the duality of Victor and the Creature being halves of the same whole. They are one person separated into two. The struggle between man and monster becomes an inner struggle with the fluidity of the role. It's like getting front row seats to someone arguing with themself. One side retreats, the other side lashes out. It's not until Victor admits defeat, admits responsibility for severing himself from the Creature that they are able to move forward, ever onward.

This duality only works because of the genius in the casting of the leads. As I have seen time and time again the National Theatre has a distinct problem with peopling the rest of their productions with stars of equal caliber. Sometimes it's one actor who really stands out as quite possible the worst job of portraying Laertes you could ever imagine, other times it's a more widespread pandemic. But sometimes it's all down to the casting agent and director, and it's a great actor in a role they were just never meant to play. This production of Frankenstein had a pandemic on it's hand as soon as Victor entered stage left. The first half predominately staring Benedict as the Creature and Karl Johnson as de Lacey was perfect. But then again, Karl Johnson is an amazing actor, even if you are only fleetingly aware of him his Twister Turrill in Lark Rise to Candleford, he will easily convert you to loving him, as will his mumbling in Hot Fuzz. But after the de Lacey's went up in smoke so did all quality in the cast. Scenes with Victor's father and his true love Elizabeth were painful. The sign of an uneven production is when you can't decide if it's more painful to watch the rape scene or M. Frankenstein rail against Victor's stupidity.

Whatever imbalance there was in the cast I was at least in love with the set design enough that I could distract myself well. In undergrad I majored in Art but I minored in Theatre. And no, no delusions of being an actor here, despite the fact I was forced to take an acting class, I was tech all the way. In particular set design and scene painting. Therefore a well designed set can literally transport me. Whereas a boring set, like those few ladders used in Hiddles's Coriolanus, yeah, here comes boredom... thankfully relieved by Mark Gatiss and a very short tunic on Tom. But here the set perfectly captured the feeling of a time when we were on the verge of such technological breakthroughs. If you think about the science behind Mary Shelley's writing, what she envisioned, this set just perfectly melds with this driving force of progress. She never once mentions how the Creature was animated, but the constant references to Mont Blanc and lightning make the electical component inevitable. Here brought about by the popping and surging of hundreds and hundreds of Steampunk light bulbs. Combined with the train relentlessly driving forward, the future is coming whether we want it to or not, with the force of a steam engine!

If I had to point to one thing this production needed, I would say it needed a heart. Yes, the Creature does an admirable job of showing the emotions that Victor keeps under lock and key, but does the Creature love? I would say he doesn't. In fact, I would say that it's the lack of love in him and his life that leads him to do so much evil. But Victor doesn't have love either. The heart of the book, if we are to stick with this anatomical theme, was Victor's best friend Clerval. He cares for Victor and loves him and it's his death that finally breaks Victor and makes Victor willing to damn himself and the rest of his family to a similar fate. Yet Clerval is absent. Yes, this streamlines the narrative, making it all about the duality of the Creature and Victor, but while this is all well and good, you need someone to care about, someone to root for, someone whose death will actually make you feel. Because the wanton destruction of half the cast doesn't really dent your tear ducts when they were doing a bad job to start with. Clerval needed to be here, he needed to be an actor of equal caliber to Jonny and Benedict, and in fact... perhaps they could have pushed the duality future? Have a third actor that alternates roles. Because seriously, emotion is needed. Shelley didn't write a story about wanton destruction, but the search for humanity. Clerval is the epitome of that.