Miriam Gillinson
posted 25 May 2007

Philip Ridley’s previous plays, such as Mercury Fur, have taken us to some pretty dark places: child sacrifice, gay snuff movies and all sorts of physical and psychological abuse. His latest offering, Leaves of Glass, hints at equally disturbing themes, without really exploring them.

The plot centres on brothers Steven (Ben Whishaw) and Barry (Trystan Gravelle) who’ve been sharing an unmentionable secret ever since their father’s suspected suicide. This secret turns out to be typical Ridley: in the penultimate scene he hints that, following their father’s death, Steven allowed an old schoolmaster to sexually abuse his brother Barry. Ridley also suggests it was a similar experience with this schoolmaster that led to their father’s depression and eventual suicide. It is the most striking and uncomfortable scene of the play – and just about makes up for the rest of it.

The build up to this denouement is surprisingly dull. The play exists in two time frames: Steven’s monologues explore the immediate aftermath of their father’s death, whilst the on-stage action depicts ‘now’. As the present-day action unfolds, Steven’s perfect (brittle) existence begins to fall apart as his past literally comes back to haunt him. Unfortunately, his downfall – and the impact it has on those he loves - is not that compelling. The scenes between Steven and wife Debbie (Maxine Peake) lack any real punch; Debbie’s character is over-exposed and her relationship with Steven unbelievable. Though their relationship forms the backbone of the plot – Debbie discovers she’s pregnant, leaves Steven and eventually returns home during the play’s duration – it doesn’t make for great viewing. Nevertheless, there’s one electric scene between the two in which Whishaw and Peake really shine. Prior to their separation, Steven and Debbie share a wonderfully strained and vicious dinner together. Packed with anger and restrained hate, the dialogue infuses these characters with an energy and enigma that’s missing in their earlier scenes.

The relationship between Steven and Barry has a lot more life to it. In one startling scene, we begin to understand the extent of Steven’s jealousy for Barry. Recounting his brother’s painting sessions, Steven remembers ‘His hair…all sort of glowing in the sunlight. The nape of his neck looks pure gold…I want to stab him in the neck…In that pure-gold spot.’ This is the stuff that Ridley’s so good at – taking human impulses (such as jealousy) and stretching them to breaking point. That this rivalry could’ve contributed to Steven condoning the sexual abuse of his brother is a horrible thought.

Lisa Goldman – in her directing debut as artistic director of the Soho Theatre – does her very best to support and unlock this piece. The staging is understated and suggestive, with some eerie music thrown in for good measure. A mirror placed on the back wall plays around with the characters’ reflections, making the stage space enclosed and often threatening. The final scene is reflective of the play overall: disturbing in parts, though weak in others. Following unexpected news, the family hunch around a table listening to the baby monitor. They sit back-stage, half hidden behind a double-glazed window. It’s a classic Ridley paradox to end on: despite the hope of new life, they’re more trapped and alone than they’ve ever been.

Till 26 May 2007