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Review originally published on ENO's website as part of their Response programme. Access the original review here: https://www.eno.org/news/eno-response-orpheus-and-eurydice-reviews-part-ii/

Review originally published on ENO's website as part of their Response programme. Access the original review here: https://www.eno.org/news/eno-response-orpheus-in-the-underworld-reviews/

It has been forty-six years since the original production of Equus at the National Theatre and from its first performances, Peter Shaffer’s play has prompted discussion as to whether or not it has any social validity. Equus is often critiqued as being pseudo-psychological, and most productions have failed to appease critics who are adamant that Equus fails to live up to the intellectual nuances that the original case demands. However, I feel these criticisms may miss the point. Shaffer is not suggesting that a boy of seventeen who has committed a dangerous and violent act should be allowed to roam free, but that society seeks to repress true feeling and true identity, in favour of an unsatisfying humdrum life. Ned Bennet’s contemporary and raw interpretation of this classic play intimately details the monotony, dissatisfaction and frustration found in many homes across Britain. This production proves to still be relevant, by condemning normality and conformity in favour of feeling and personal experience, referencing the sexual and gender politics that are so present in the lives of today’s young people. Equus focuses on Martin Dysart (played by Zubin Varla), an intellectual, middle-class psychiatrist who attempts to piece together the reasons why seventeen-year-old Alan Strang, (Ethan Kai), blinded six horses. Dysart meticulously pulls apart the threads of Alan’s life, his contrasting but equally overbearing parents, his lack of education, and his obsession with horses, culminating in the creation of his own deity, Equus. When Jill, tenderly played by Norah Lopez Holden, and Alan go on a date, they end up finding privacy in the stables, his sacred space. Alan’s sexual orientation is shown throughout the play as being confused, his reconciliation between his Equus and sex is what ultimately pushes him to blind the horses. The question for Dysart is whether it is right to take away Alan’s god, his personal pain, his sexuality, and force him into mediocre normality. Even in the original production, the metaphor of Alan’s obsession with horses as an allegory for his attraction to men was apparent. This is beautifully reimagined in this interpretation, the stunning visceral choreography by Shelley Maxwell, which, in tandem with the abandonment of the classic woven horse heads by designer Georgia Lowe, works perfectly to focus the production on repressed sexuality. This is evident even in the first few seconds of this production, as a clinical glow falls on the figure of Alan Strang (played by Ethan Kai) and the horse Nugget (Ira Mandela Siobhan) embracing tenderly. In these seconds, the breath-taking majesty of Siobhan’s depiction of Nugget is magnified, he stands tall with every muscle in his body alert to Alan’s touch; the chemistry between them is all-but tangible, which is the quintessential highlight of this revival. Kai also does well in his depiction of Alan, brutish, frenzied and yet utterly vulnerable in the hands of the institution. The set that surrounds the actors is hauntingly sterile, the simplicity of the white curtains reinforces the hospital atmosphere, whilst also being able to work as a blank canvas for the dramatic lighting changes of red, green and pink that characterise Alan’s frenzied dream episodes. The space is tight and claustrophobic, which, with Varla’s portrayal of the inherently self-conscious Martin Dysart who is almost omnipresent on stage, complements his disintegrating mental state. Varla’s Dysart is anxiety ridden, a symptom of his middle-class self-awareness. This fresh interpretation of Dysart’s character is relevant and needed, the difference between enjoying one’s life and conforming to normality being clear in his internal conflict. An unfortunate downside to this performance is the presentation of Alan’s parents, who are not well-rounded characters, although this is possibly to do with the limitations of the script itself. The complete focus on their defining characteristics, Dora’s fascination with biblical stories, and Frank’s socialist rigour, leaves few subtleties to be explored. Equus is not a work of genius, but Bennet’s production is fresh and poignant, continuing the important discussion of how humanity reacts to sexuality and ‘sexual deviations’, and whether the state has any right to interfere with it. The shift of focus between two extremes was didactic but it did not take away from the emotion of the piece. With its, now second, West End revival, Equus proves itself to be as relevant and accessible as it was in 1973.