Blasted - My Theatrical Nightmare

Blasted
Written by Sarah Kane
Directed by Brendan Healy
Starring David Ferry, Michelle Monteith and Dylan Smith
At Buddies in Bad Times Theatre
September 22 - October 17, 2010

Photo of Dylan Smith and David Ferry by Omer Yukseker

Open-minded is a term I would use when describing my tastes for the theatre. So when I was unconventionally led around the back alley behind the Buddies in Bad Times theatre on Friday, September 24th, I had an inkling that I was about to experience something good. With a mandate that is dedicated to the promotion of Queer culture, it is no wonder that Buddies in Bad Times is mounting the Canadian English-language premiere of Sarah Kane’s Blasted. Not only did the play deal with queer themes of sexuality, it also dealt with a situation of people that can be classified as outside of societal norms - queer. Instead of leaving the theatre elated by the performance I had seen; I was puzzled, confused, and slightly afraid.

Blasted deals with the complex relationship between Ian (David Ferry) and the much younger Cate (Michelle Monteith) beginning with their covert rendezvous in a hotel in Leeds. It is apparent that Ian’s age and power over Cate was a secret and that he is feeling the slip of his hold on her. Both Ferry and Monteith portray their respective characters with a strong sense of back-story; I could sense that the two had an odd and unique connection. It is clear that this relationship is not an accepted one in society. Monteith presents Cate with such a childish innocence that is then completely changed when Ian betrays her trust and wishes. Although not portrayed on stage, Ian rapes Cate when she insists that she must move on and that their sexual relationship is through.

Amidst their personal turmoil it becomes clear to audiences that the city has been attacked by a bomb when a soldier enters the hotel. Through his conversations with Ian, he soldier (Dylan Smith) reveals that the city is amidst a brutal war and he retells the atrocities of war. Ultimately the soldier rapes Ian and sucks out his eyes. The play continues to display controversial and at times uncomfortable acts including a beautifully disturbing performance by Ferry in a number of vignettes showing Ian’s masturbation, the eating of a dead baby, and his slow decay.

Despite running for an hour and forty-five minutes, not much seems to actually happen in Blasted. Instead of focusing on action, the play highlights the relationships of these three people and their reactions to the happenings around them. Arguably, having just one set (two if you wanted to get technical around the blasted version of the hotel room) feels like the play is more stagnant that it actually is. Often minutes went by without dialogue, bur rather a scene of real-time observation of how these characters were passing their time together.

In one of these particular moments at the beginning of the first act, Cate is left alone on stage while we hear Ian showering. Monteith highlights the hotel room’s appeal and simple beauty with her childish awe of the walls and bout of jumping on the bed. It seems like such a clean and safe space, contrary to the violating and disturbing acts that are to follow. After the blast the space is transformed into a dark and vast area, no longer resembling the pristine room from before, but rather it embodies the filth and deviance that the audience knows has and will occur there.

The graphic nature of the filth and deviance was a tough point in my viewing experience. I believe that it is much harder to leave a theatre when the work you are being presented makes you uncomfortable in comparison to turning off your television. I should tell you know that I’m a sensitive viewer in that graphic depictions make me uncomfortable; even watching the beginning credits of CSI makes me want to close my eyes. Having said this, I wouldn't identify myself as a conservative viewer either. Blasted’s depictions of rape and eye-removal made me squirm in my seat and hope that the worst had passed. Unfortunately, there was a lot more squirm inducing material throughout the piece.

As an audience member in the front row I was traumatized by not only watching Ian eat a dead baby, but by the piece of baby that was projected towards me as he spit it out. There is something about the reality of the actors on stage that made my already present weak stomach even weaker. It was as if I knew I could run up there and stop them, but societal norms reminded me to sit and soak in the piece I was being presented.

Similarly, the director Brendan Healy’s use of long bouts of darkness in between scenes created a sense of discomfort for me. Each break of darkness and the sound of rain seemed longer and louder, each pushing me to a larger state of uneasiness. Usually I love silence and darkness within a production, in fact, it excites me. Paired with the frightening nature of the production, however, I felt less than inclined to happily sit in the dark.

In the post-production talkback, Healy mentioned that it was important to illustrate the painfulness of being alive. I can empathize with the characters in the sense that watching their struggles on stage was hard both emotionally and physically for me. The performances and artistic choices were perhaps not of an esthetic that I subscribe, but were powerful nonetheless.

Leaving the theatre that night I didn’t have much to say. I was still in shock and perhaps I still am. I can see the artistic and political merit of staging Blasted, but could not manage to take much away from it after being alienated by the disturbing acts on stage. For that I wouldn’t suggest you see Blasted, or else you too might experience my theatrical nightmare.