Preview Thoughts on Boesman and Lena

I'm very fortunate that I have a lot of good theater coming up - I'm always trying to keep my eyes open for new work that will stimulate my brain.  But there are also my favorite authors whose plays I absolutely will not miss.  Athol Fugard is one of those writers.  If you're interested, you can remind yourself of my rhapsodic reviews of BLOOD KNOT, MY CHILDREN, MY AFRICA, PAINTED ROCKS AT REVOLVER CREEK, and MASTER HAROLD...AND THE BOYS.  I always find his work utterly compelling and devastating - they tell of a world that is foreign yet familiar to me and the language he uses continually breaks my heart.  I admit that I have never seen, or even read, Boesman and Lena, so I was especially excited to get a chance to see it at my beloved Signature Theatre.

Boesman and Lena is a tough tough play, very surreal and almost Beckett-like (there's even a Waiting for Godot-ish tree on stage).  There's violence and ugliness throughout (there's also humor and beauty, but it's fewer and farther between).  It's very dialogue-heavy and it's a little over two hours without intermission, so it's a commitment.  I saw an early preview, so I'm sure the pace will tighten, but this play certainly isn't for everyone.  In the interest of full disclosure, there were quite a few walkouts the night I was there.  Happily, I wasn't one of them.  I saw much of Fugard's timeless depiction of despair tinged with hope throughout, although I do admit that there were small stretches where my mind wandered.  Spoilers will be in my thoughts below - you have been warned.

photo credit: Joan Marcus

This production begins with two bedraggled characters entering through the house, seemingly carrying all of their belongings.  They stop and look around and seem to be looking right at the audience - are we becoming complicit?  Are we the ones who set them on the journey?  It was never actually clear to me who we (the audience) were supposed to be, since we were also gazed at during the last scene as well.  The characters, Boesman and Lena, end up on stage and start to build an encampment around the tree.  We hear that they have been evicted from their homestead (the play takes place in South Africa during apartheid) and have been trying to find a new place to settle.  Lena complains about how long they've been traveling, about how violently Boesman treats her, and is frequently just trying to work out her life to herself aloud.  Her monologues are a bit rambly and repetitive, but still harrowing in parts.  The bits she told us about all of her babies who have died are heartbreaking.

Boesman is violent and belligerent, and Lena clearly resents the treatment, yet they are still spiritually connected.  This changes when the third character, an old man the other two call Outa, appears.  He doesn't speak their language, but his very existence is something Lena has been yearning for - someone who doesn't hit or hate, but someone who listens to her, who seems to have empathy.  She even teaches him to say her name and the happiness she radiates when he says it is quite lovely.  Throughout the rest of the play, the centers of power shift, surprisingly, until an unexpected event stuns all three.

Even though the play was written during the time of apartheid, the idea of these wanderers, refugees almost, looking for their place because white people keep taking their place away, is hard to confront.  The play is directed by a South African woman and it seems to me she has a special ear for their dialogue and what is underneath their dialogue.  She also shows compassion for all three characters, even though on the surface, the angry Boesman perhaps doesn't deserve it.  His behavior isn't excused, but there is underlying pain that explains.  His monologue about becoming 'white man's rubbish' is again really hard to hear.  Maybe that's why so many people walked out?  I guess we can't know.

I don't think Boesman and Lena gets performed as often as some of Fugard's other plays - its density could be a reason, or its patches of unrelenting despair.  But, as usual, Fugard's compassion for these people shines through and his dialogue contains wonderments.  The actors are all excellent, but still seem to be finding their way.  I'm sure by the time the play opens next week, all will be as harrowing as it should be.  This isn't an easy play to watch, but it's a valuable piece to experience.  Especially now.