By BRUCE DENNILL
Midnight In Parys / Directed by Bobby Heaney / Studio, Pieter Toerien’s Montecasino Theatre, Fourways, Johannesburg
There is often that feeling, among observers of art, that lauded creations are both simpler and less rich than they appear. This includes the remarks of the sort of person who goes into a gallery, sees a Rothko that appears to be only two shades of blue, and mumbles, “I could have done that.” The thing is, sir/madam/other, nobody will ever know if that’s true, as you haven’t done it, and probably never will.
The premises for Paul Slabolepszy’s celebrated plays often seem to be banal – two or perhaps three people meeting or hanging out and just…talking, or sometimes even just a single character reminiscing about what was and how it affects what currently is. It could look like such a set-up is only modestly creative and will likely yield similarly unpretentious rewards in terms of entertainment.
And yet, Slabolepszy is not only prolific – this is the 39th play he has written – but consistently profound in terms of the way he explores themes that may occasionally land squarely in the experience of his audiences but which will always have some overlap with emotions, relationships or scenarios they are aware or part of.
In Midnight In Parys, the story is tiny, out of the way, and increasingly meaningful. It’s all set in a café (a typically appealing and detailed Greg King design) – its specialty of toasted cheese and tomato, proudly announced on a blackboard, immediately sets the bar for the place’s sophistication – in a country town that most people, including Slabolepszy’s introspective Aidan, usually only pass through on the way to somewhere else. Alternatively, out in the country and generally quiet and peaceful, Parys is the sort of place folks might go if they want to get away from hassle and stress in bigger, busier locales.
Café owner Joanna (Bianca Amato), in trying to convince Aidan – a first-time customer; not someone she knows – to leave so that she can close up for the night, begins to connect with the man, who is clearly struggling emotionally. That being the case (and with a few too many drinks doing nothing to help), Aidan is not as forthcoming upfront as he could be, setting the scene for a long and layered dialogue that slowly reveals the facets and feelings of both characters to each other, the audience, and sometimes to themselves.
There are some big twists, made extra effective by writing that cleverly weaves details of place and personality (the people in the room and those only referred to verbally) into the narrative in such a way that the audience feels familiar with all concerned at an intimate level. This means that, when the lights go down, the audience is grappling with the exquisite complexity of brutally life-altering decisions as much as the characters are.
Compact and compelling, entertaining and engaging, Midnight In Parys doesn’t allow anyone to go gently into a good night, and it’s all the better for that.