People, Places & Things – Footnotes
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Addicts and actresses lie
One of the facts that we identify about Emma early on and which becomes a running theme through the play, is that she frequently does not tell the truth. As an addict she has become accustomed to hiding the truth from others, and from herself. She continues to put up a front of lies that she can hide behind, including perversely even to those who are trying to help her. The inconsistency in her own name through the play is a telling symbol of her deceit. We are alerted straightaway when she tells the nurse on arriving at the rehab clinic that her name is Nina, the character in The Seagull that we have just seen her playing. She also uses the fact that she is required repeatedly to adopt different roles as an actress to justify her changeable identity; as she says, “Truth is difficult when you lie for a living”. It may be a real-life trope that some actors confess to being more comfortable being someone other than themselves, but this feels like a smokescreen that Emma employs to deflect others and herself from penetrating or facing the truth.
She calls on the fictional world she knows from the theatre by playfully presenting the plot of Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler when asked to tell the group her own story. In our conversation in the podcast, Duncan described two possible outcomes to Emma’s life in the conventional plot of an addict’s life in drama, one being that she is fixed, and the other that she dies. One of these is ironically signalled in Emma’s choice of Hedda as her model, because of course Hedda kills herself at the end of that play.
The inconsistency in Emma’s accounts about the cause of her brother’s death signal a more disturbed psychological hinterland. She first says that he died of a brain haemorrhage, and later that it was an overdose. As an audience this discrepancy heightens our unease about everything that she has said. We expect as she goes deeper into her treatment that she will become more honest with those helping her, so it is a powerful shock to learn from her mother just in passing in the penultimate scene that her real name is not any of those that she has given out at the clinic. “Who are you being now?” is her mother’s pointed challenge. We have naturally invested hope in Emma and her recovery, but at this moment we are left in the same uncertain position as her parents and everyone else she has lied to, unable to trust who she is or what she says. This is the real truth about living with an addict who lies.
spinning one of her stories in
People, Places & Things
Trafalgar Theatre, London, June 2024
Photo by Marc Brenner
Emma’s intelligence
One of the drivers of Emma’s impulse to lie may be her idea that she is more intelligent than many around her; that she is capable of outsmarting them, which she has continually been forced to do to sustain her addiction. She is impressively articulate and openly challenges the doctors, “I really need you to at least match me intellectually”, she prompts. She will only accept any proposed treatment if it is rationally convincing. But she is caught by the trap of over-estimating her intelligence, and her ability to rationally solve any challenge she faces, when there are other emotional and psychological realities that power her behaviour and that of others that need to be acknowledged. Like one’s arriving at religious faith, her acceptance of her problems and their solution cannot be achieved by logic alone. As we identified in our conversation in the podcast, she clashes with the doctors and the demands of the program because they require her to concede control. Initially she is defiant, “I’m not gonna say I’m powerless, or I surrender.”
She is clever enough to present arguments in defense of her behaviour and choices, and some of these arguments are seductive. For example, when she contrasts the energy and excitement that she experiences when intoxicated with the boredom and submission that she witnesses in the clinic: “I want to live vividly and make huge, spectacular, heroic mistakes.” Or her contention that the world is nothing but “purposeless chaos”, to which the only reasonable response is escape; she says, “There are substances I can put in my bloodstream that make the world perfect.” These are enticing ideas, but they are ultimately self-delusional and self-destructive. If she insists on these precepts, she simply won’t survive.
The one intellectual point that she is not wrong about may be her reluctance to buy any neat psychological explanations for her addiction or behaviour: “Wouldn’t that all just be a massive simplification of the complexity of just being a human fucking person.” That does sound like the truth.
112 – Glengarry Glen Ross by David Mamet
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David Mamet’s modern American classic, Glengarry Glen Ross, is a blistering commentary on the cut-throat reality of the American dream, and its poisonous impact on those who have bought into the myth and machismo of that dream. The play had its world premiere in the small Cottesloe theatre at the National Theatre in London in September 1983, and was first performed in New York the following year, winning the Pulitzer Prize for Drama. Mamet also wrote the extended screenplay for the star-studded 1992 film version.
As we recorded this episode a new production of the play was playing at the Old Vic theatre in London, with an all-female cast. This is a particularly provocative idea, because one of the primary themes of this play is masculine identity, and the salesmen in this Chicago office do not hold back in their display of machismo.
To explore Mamet’s unflinching slice of 1980s dog-eat-dog capitalism, I am joined by arts journalist Mark Lawson.
111 – The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui by Bertolt Brecht
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Bertolt Brecht’s ‘gangster spectacle’, The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui, is both an exuberant and funny piece of theatre, and a chillingly topical political satire. Set in the 1930s Chicago of Al Capone, Brecht presents a parody of the rise of Hitler through the character of the gangster Arturo Ui. The play is a universal cry for vigilance against the rise of unscrupulous, populist leaders who threaten democratic societies and global peace.
As we recorded this episode a new production of the play by the Royal Shakespeare Company was playing in Stratford-upon-Avon, starring Mark Gatiss as the title character.
I am delighted to be joined by both the show’s translator, playwright Stephen Sharkey, and by Brecht scholar, Professor Tom Kuhn, to guide us through Brecht’s political parody.
110 – Our Town by Thornton Wilder
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Playwright Edward Albee described Thornton Wilder’s Our Town as “the greatest American play ever written.” In fact Wilder’s quintessential portrait of rural America in a bygone time has somehow transcended its iconic American setting to become a universal meditation on mortality, community, and how we live our individual lives, wherever that may be.
The play premiered on Broadway in 1938, winning Wilder the Pulitzer Prize, and it has been a staple of school, amateur and stock performance ever since. In fact, according to critic John Lahr writing in the introduction to the text of the Penguin edition, “the play is performed somewhere in the world every day.”
Howard Sherman, author of Another Day’s Begun – Thornton Wilder’s Our Town in the 21st Century, joins me to explore this American classic.
Michael Sheen as the Stage Manager in Our Town, Welsh National Theatre, photo by Helen Murray.






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