Theatre
Olly’s Prison
St James Cavalier

The concept of entrapment in modern society is not limited to physical detention and confinement from others. It is often a sense of isolation that begins within a mental state that has been filled with psychosocial norms and conventions of what is expected of us.

It is about the violence of the mind, which can sometimes be much more than its physical expression

This often leads to an almost obsessive desire to conform, which creates the suppression of personal frustrations and desires, sometimes culminating in explosive outbursts and lashing out that may have very negative, even fatal consequences, as was clearly seen in Unifaun Theatre’s production of Olly’s Prison last weekend.

At the post-performance talk last Friday – which was marred by the fact that it was very hard to make out what the panel was saying most of the time due to a lack of clarity – playwright Edward Bond did not concede that the play is overly violent, but I find that there is undoubtedly a particularly vindictive violence in it, born of rashness and executed with precision.

It is about the violence of the mind, which can sometimes be much worse than its physical expression. To be sure, its final result may have been physical, but its worst effect was the torturous power it wielded on the vulnerable psyches of the characters involved.

It all starts with Simone Spiteri’s depressed, silent role, where she sits practically motionless at the dining table in the home she shares with her father, Mike, played by Manuel Cauchi.

In a cleverly conceptualised twist on the communicative effects of theatre, and for reasons unknown to the audience, Spiteri’s character, Sheila, opens the play by not communicating at all with Cauchi’s Mike, contriving a situation where he is compelled to sustain a tour de force of a monologue as a one-sided conversation.

It was a pity that, from where I was sitting, Spiteri had her back to me and I could therefore not fully appreciate the subtle changes her facial expressions made, but her body language was more than enough to indicate Sheila’s disinterest and detachment from the world around her.

Silence is not only isolating for those who give it, but also for those who receive it. Mike’s reaction to his daughter’s disinterest in his attempts at making conversation becomes a challenge and then an insult to his power and authority as a father and as a man – degenerating his attitude and self-control to an animalistic reaction whose consequences haunt Mike for the rest of his life. I found Cauchi’s portrayal of Mike to be rather subdued, almost mellow especially in view of his escalating violence; however, this was punctuated by instances of real panic and shock at the realisation of his crime.

It was certainly a gripping opening scene, where the tension was finally diffused by Pia Zammit’s excellent Vera, Mike’s neighbour and lover who brought a semblance of comic relief because of her simple, straightforward view of things.

Hers was a poignant naivety, where inherent optimism was punctured by personal sorrow and the desire to improve her lot as best she could.

The interaction between Mike and Vera put across the dysfunctional element in many modern relationships because these were two people who had very different views on what they deserved and wanted out of life, particularly when Mike is finally released from prison following a 10-year stint.

Having left his apartment to Joseph Zammit’s Frank, Sheila’s boyfriend, he now finds that Vera has bought it herself in an unhealthy obsession with an idealised scenario of her life with Mike.

In prison, Mike has encountered Victor Debono’s Barry, an older man who acts almost childishly, and David Persiva’s Smiler, a young man, little more than a boy, whose bravado and crude, loud sense of fun make him a favourite with many inmates.

Prison becomes a refuge and a safe house in a further twist of societal fate. Roles of power, authority and masculinity are well-defined and adhered to in such a contained environment and Smiler, outwardly happy as he is to be leaving soon, cannot reconcile this promise of newfound freedom with the fear of the outside – the fear of not having your day planned out for you, of having to get on with your life as best you can.

I found Persiva’s portrayal of Smiler as very sensitive and credible, using his relatively short role to make a lasting impact on the audience, while Debono’s Barry was also a strongly defined character with all his petty short­comings exposed to public view.

It was rather a pity that, while their interpretation was excellent, their clarity was sometimes marred by the combination of rhythms which were perhaps too fast for their working-class British accents.

Mike’s relationship with Smiler’s mother, Ellen, begins with her trying to figure out what happened to her son in prison and, while she tries to understand Smiler’s motivation, Mike tries to understand hers.

Jo Fuller’s Ellen could have been much better developed dramatically – while she showed an understanding of a devastated mother’s role, her emotive reactions were not quite as nuanced as they could have been.

Steve Hili’s brash Olly – Smiler’s original victim – has an odd relationship with Ellen, who takes on a motherly role towards him as a surrogate for the son she no longer has. Olly is both victim and victimiser to Smiler, whose hidden fear of an encounter is one of the main reasons for his end. But it is Frank who finally connected all three incidents and emerged as the most violently charged link – from bumbling boyfriend to police officer, he has held the power of conventional authority in his hands all along.

Zammit’s portrayal of this young man enjoying the legally sanctioned violence afforded to him by his uniform was excellent. Director Chris Cooper, whose previous experience in directing this play served him well at St James, made the most of the round theatre, but could have coordinated certain cumbersome scene-changes better on Romualdo Moretti’s set.

His vision, however, was clear: Bond’s criticism of the injustices of society is strong, clear and justifiable, making supposed concepts of freedom prisons of the mind.

• Olly’s Prison is also being staged on Friday, Saturday and Sunday and March 22-24.