Times Literary Supplement, December 20, 1985, by Clive Sinclair -- "The voyeur viewed" ----------------------------------------------------------- "Yes, I admit that the whole affair does have the look of a charade or costume-drama," says Yonadab at the start. Nor has he changed his mind by the end, when he imagines himself in a theatre. It is a conceit that links the historical personages, always aware of an "audience looking to them for instruction and entertainment," with the ghosts invoked by Yonadab to beguile his readers (I am quoting from the source-book, Dan Jacobson's *The Rape of Tamar*). As is now common knowledge, Yonadab's fancy has come true; Peter Shaffer has taken his metaphor literally and put him on the stage. What he has failed to do, however, is to translate the thought into the third dimension. There is, to be fair, an attempt to capture the story for the theatre, but the effort is not sustained. Throughout the performance the stage is surrounded by curtains through which we are allowed to peep, courtesy of Yonadab and the lighting man. Written in Hebrew script on these drapes are the original chapters from the Book of Samuel. Yonadab's first words are in this same Hebrew, as though the letters were coming to life. Much later, when Amnon ravishes his sister, Tamar, Yonadab revives this image and we see, at his behest, their various couplings projected on the curtains like letters from an indecipherable alphabet. There is no transcendent truth in these characters--as Amnon confirms when he declares the night's work to be "just another fuck." But there is no theatrical magic either. The problem lies in Shaffer's decision to retain Yonadab as storyteller--though who could blame him? Yonadab fits comfortably into a theatrical tradition older than Shakespeare, giving Alan Bates a role to relish as Lord of Misrule. This would have sufficed if Shaffer were not afflicted with hubris. Yonadab's skeptical mask never slips in the book--of course it doesn't, the story has been rehearsed too many times--just as David retains his credulity, "the secret of his success." In the play, however, Shaffer has made a crucial change; Yonadab will become credulous. This in turn means that the relationship between the narrator and his characters must also change for, at some point, Yonadab will have to lose control of the plot. In other words, the other characters have the same status as Yonadab; all are equally real. The audience is thus invited to suspend its disbelief (not an easy matter, given Yonadab's anachronisms) and accept that it is at the court of King David. The trouble is, both writer and director seem to lack the necessary conviction. David comes over as a cross between Atahualpa and King Lear, beautiful Absalom looks as if he belongs at a Band Aid jamboree and Amnon behaves like Captain Hook. In the novel, moreover, there is a pact between the narrator--Yonadab--and his readers. It is his story, to be sure, but it could not exist without a readership. Jacobson demands that we take the act of reading literally. Shaffer seems satisfied with passive witnesses. The only involvement his Yonadab offers the audience is voyeurism. Thus the retribution, when it comes, affects Yonadab alone--not his partners in crime. All this is not to say that the play withholds all artistic and intellectual pleasures, but merely to complain that they occur *post facto* (as I am writing this review in fact). As always with Shaffer it is the idea, not the play, that is the thing. Yonadab persuades his lovesick cousin to rape Tamar by quoting the customs of neighboring Egypt, where royal siblings mate and become divine in the process. The result is disappointment, needless to say, which turns infatuation into hate. Amnon throws out Tamar who wanders the streets of Jerusalem stark naked (Wendy Morgan deserves the *bravos* she receives at the end), advertising her shame, and finding her way, as if by accident, to the house of Absalom. This is not part of Yonadab's scheme and he begins to suspect that a greater author than himself is taking over the plot. Shaffer finally wrests the story away from Jacobson and makes it his own. Threatened by Absalom, Yonadab drops similar poison in his ear. He invents certain prophesies that lead the credulous the conclusion that both Absalom and Tamar are ordained. Absalom makes that jump and Yonadab--to his surprise-- follows him. For Tamar seems to offer independent confirmation of the dreams he has described. What he doesn't know--how can the storyteller be so ignorant?--is that Tamar has become as adept behind the arras as himself, listening as he tempts Absalom. Like Aaron he believes that our greatest desire is to see gods walking upon the earth, and like that tainted priest he denies the second commandment. He wants to lose himself, to be dazzled and dissolved in visible splendour. Instead he is bathed in the blood of his relatives as Tamar--her consciousness raised and her conscience erased by her defilement--completes her terrible revenge. Yonadab, faced with Amnon, the naked idealist, dead and covered with the dung of a donkey, and Absalom hanging by his hair between heaven and earth, not surprisingly remembers his humanity and renounces all creeds. If only Shaffer had suspended my disbelief as well as the stage- hands suspended Absalom, I would have cheered Yonadab's passionate denunciation to the heavens. ----------------------------------------------------------- Bentley's Bedlam http://www.BetsyDa.com/bedlam.html This website is for information and entertainment purposes only and is not intended to infringe on copyrights held by others.