Pinter's ‘No Man's Land’ as confounding as ever

When Harold Pinter's “No Man's Land” premiered at London's Old Vic Theatre in 1975 with John Gielgud as the self-proclaimed poet, Spooner, and Ralph Richardson as his host, Hirst, noted critic Kenneth Tynan took it to task for its “gratuitous obscurity.” 

The play has been perplexing critics and audiences ever since — that includes the latest revival at Steppenwolf Theatre. Directed by Les Waters, the show stars theatre co-founder Jeff Perry as Hirst and Mark Ulrich as Spooner (a late replacement for Austin Pendleton who left for “personal reasons”), with support from Samuel Roukin as Foster and Jon Hudson Odom as Briggs, Hirst's manservants, bodyguards or more.

Pinter plays used to be common on Chicago stages with their “theater of the absurd” sensibility, air of menace and fraught dialogue full of pregnant pauses. That's no longer the case, so seeing one today is both a blast from the past and a reminder of what a great writer Pinter was, great enough to have a style — Pinteresque — named for him.

All the elements of that style are evident in Steppenwolf's “No Man's Land,” along with a great deal of humor which arguably undercuts the amount of menace. Nothing is exactly as it seems, and just as you think you've gotten a handle on what's happening, the ground shifts with new information that may or may not be true. Dense conversations about everything and nothing often veer from philosophical to incomprehensible. There's also a power struggle going on, a game of one-upmanship coupled with class warfare.

Or maybe we are just watching two lonely, old, closeted alcoholics trying to make a connection and grapple with their mortality. So it seems at the beginning, anyway. 

Hirst, a successful writer, has just met Spooner on Hampstead Heath, at a pub known in the 1970s for its gay clientele, and invited him back to his North London home for a drink. All the action takes place in the sparsely elegant, high-ceilinged drawing room by scenic designer Andrew Boyce, which features a wall of bookcases with an inset well-stocked bar and two leather armchairs front and center. The room also is a box that seems to float on Steppenwolf's stage, and with Yi Zhao's lighting — brighter at night than by day — and Mikhail Fiksel's self-consciously dramatic sound design suggests a tomb, purgatory or, well, no man's land. 

Spooner, somewhat disheveled compared to Hirst in costume designer Janice Pytel's rumpled suit, does most of the talking at first, rambling on about how he's a penetratingly perceptive poet as the two drink copious quantities of whiskey and vodka. Then he taunts Hirst about his masculinity and wife, and Hirst rises, throws his glass and comments "No man's land … does not move … or change … or grow old … remains … forever … icy … silent," before collapsing and crawling out of the room. Foster, who claims at one point to be Hirst's son, and Briggs, who is both butler and bodyguard, enter and question Spooner, who now is quieter.

When Hirst returns, he's trying to remember a dream about someone drowning and talking about his photo album of his friends, among the many riffs on the vagaries of memory. In fact, he doesn't seem to remember Spooner, who tries to position himself as a true friend when the incoherent Hirst collapses again. Foster and Briggs become defensive and assert their obligation to protect their boss against “men of evil,” and once Briggs leads Hirst out, Foster menacingly says to Spooner "Listen. You know what it's like when you're in a room with the light on and then suddenly the light goes out? I'll show you. It's like this." Then he switches off the lights, causing the blackout that ends the first act. 

The next morning, Spooner finds he's locked in the room, and Briggs enters offering him food and champagne but no explanation. A natty Hirst arrives and, contrary to what's gone before, greets Spooner as an old friend, chatting about how they were Oxford classmates years ago. Then they incongruously discuss romantic trysts they had with the same women, culminating in  Spooner accusing Hirst of having an affair with his wife.

Things become more bizarre after that, with all four men drinking champagne and Briggs defying Hirst's orders. After Spooner asks Hirst for a job, he replies, “Let's change the subject for the last time,” and immediately regrets it, because the others take it to mean that he will be unable to change the subject ever again. This linguistic technicality leads Hirst to reflect on his youth when he thought he saw a drowned body in a lake, and Spooner  responds by throwing his words about no man's land back at him. Hirst's retort is as enigmatic as everything that's gone before.

Elusive as “No Man's Land” may be, one thing is certain: It's a great opportunity for actors to show their stuff. All four rise to the challenge at Steppenwolf, and Waters' meticulous direction pays great attention to body language as well as to the great torrents of words. 

Perry leads the pack with his complicated portrayal of an aging drunk used to entitlement and trying to fend off isolation and mortality. The only issue — with him or the sound system — is that it's hard at times to understand what he's saying. Ulrich's Spooner is a good match, shifting as well as he can with the changing situation. Roukin's Foster says he's a poet but could easily pass for a thug, while Odom's dapper Briggs is a smooth operator with enough moxie to defy his boss and an undercurrent of rage that doesn't quite manifest itself.