Review: ‘Sex, Lies and Harold Pinter’ at Odyssey Theatre
- Anita W. Harris
- 2 hours ago
- 5 min read
Featuring two one-act plays by Harold Pinter: "Party Time" and "The Lover"
The Odyssey Theatre is hosting a unique visiting production that presents two one-act Harold Pinter plays in one show dubbed “Sex, Lies and Harold Pinter.” “Party Time” (1991), a timely political satire, followed by the humorously twisted “The Lover” (1963), share the same gorgeous living-room set designed by Joel Daavid and same intrepid director, Jack Heller.
Both plays are enacted and staged well, but while “Party Time” is scarily relevant, it can’t help but come off more flatly than the intellectually and emotionally entertaining “The Lover,” not least due to the acting prowess of Ron Bottitta and Susan Priver in the latter as a husband and wife playing subtle romantic games.
But first, “Party Time” — with its haunting echoes of both George Orwell’s novel “1984” and Margaret Atwood’s “The Handmaid’s Tale” serving as a potent reminder of how easily we can slip into dystopia, even if all seems “normal” on the surface.
Set in London during an elite, boozy party, the play features eight men and women who speak with natural if boorish repetition and not-so-subtle subtext. Heller’s direction spotlights different conversations among them (aided by Gavan Wyrick’s lighting), allowing the audience to circulate around the party like voyeurs.
Young Dusty (Michelle Ghatan) is married to crass Terry (Paul Marius) with a Cockney accent who is verbally abusive toward her, hinting at physical abusiveness, even though she doesn’t react to it except to appear at times paralyzed.
Dusty continually asks Terry and their charming elderly host Gavin (Larry Eisenberg) about her missing brother Jimmy, though neither man wants him even mentioned. It becomes clear through references to roadblocks and soldiers in the streets that something sinister is going on outside the elegant party and perhaps Jimmy has (or had) something to do with it.
What the men do discuss is membership in an exclusive and very well-appointed club, which older widow Melissa (Mouchette Van Helsdingen) also attests to, noting how it is founded on certain righteous morals that need to be preserved.
On the other side of the room, young Fred (Isaac W. Jay) and mentor Douglas (Christopher Louis Parker) whisper over a fruit-and-cheese platter about business and Orwellian sounding politics, while Douglas’ wife Liz (Michelle McGregor) and single-lady Charlotte (Brenda James) get drunk and whisper about Liz’s attraction to another man and how it must be love, though that word seems to ring hollow for them.
With her husband later, Liz says nothing — echoing Dusty’s nonresponse to Terry — but seems nervous and uncomfortable as Douglas tells Fred how amazing she is for having borne twins and cared for them all by herself, yet always greeted him at the door when he came home well dressed and with dinner on the table — something nearly impossible to pull off unless maybe your life depended on it.
Meanwhile, Fred openly ogles Charlotte in her low-cut blouse, alluding to some past way he had helped her step up in life. Although she is visibly upset to see him (her eyes brimming with tears), she — like Dusty and Liz — can’t or won’t say anything, and eventually brings herself to suck up to Fred, apparently suppressing whatever she was feeling, perhaps in the interest of survival.
In these ways, the men’s power — reinforced by Melissa’s insidiously moral rectitude — seems absolute, tied to whatever control and suppression is going on outside, heard through the sound of helicopters, gunfire and eventually explosions (sound design by Chris Moscatiello) and the sudden appearance of Jimmy (John Coady) — or what’s left of him.
Are we currently a hair’s breadth from the masculinely toxic and controlled world of “Party Time”? We may rather prefer being in the mutually manipulative world of “The Lovers” — that is, if we can keep up with its insane level of gaming.
Richard (Bottitta) and Sarah (Priver) have a frank and nonchalant conversation when he gets home from work about her day with her lover, who she says came by that afternoon and will again the next day. Richard takes it in stride, though eventually reveals that he, too, is seeing someone, mostly for sex, leading Sarah to call his mistress a whore and say she’s suspected it for a while.
So begins a delightfully dark metatheatrical play about one bourgeois couple’s need for love, fantasy, wit and leveling up — all revealed so seamlessly you might not realize what is “real” and what is a game. The only thing for sure is that when Sarah’s lover does show up the next day, it’s Richard in a leather jacket rather than seersucker suit (costumes by Shon LeBlanc).
What follows for the rest of the play should be experienced in person to enjoy these wily and lithe veteran actors’ complete immersion in their characters (and their characters’ characters) and Pinter’s mind-blowing way of expanding what you think you know to what you didn’t think possible. The end is both emotionally satisfying and intellectually intriguing.
As with “Party Time,” Heller’s expert hand in “The Lover” guides the actors’ movements and accents precisely yet naturally, each play tightly paced and skillfully delivered. While one is creepily scary and the other strangely pleasurable, both evoke unspeakable possibility — one in politics, the other in love.
“Sex, Lies and Harold Pinter” continues through April 26 at the Odyssey Theatre, 2055 S. Sepulveda Blvd., West Los Angeles, with performances Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m. and Sundays at 2 p.m. Tickets are $35. For tickets and information, call the box office at 310-477-2055 or visit OdysseyTheatre.com. Run time is approximately one hour and 45 minutes, including intermission.