Review: DANCE OF DEATH, Orange Tree Theatre

Hatred, desolation and disappointment run deep through August Strindberg's Dance of Death. Marriage is a prison from which the only escape is death. With Valentine's Day rapidly approaching, director Richard Eyre's adaptation may remind you that your other half isn't quite so bad after all.

Former actress Alice and army Captain Edgar are together on a remote island during the Spanish flu epidemic. Trapped in a 25-year long, loveless marriage, their boredom has become bitterness that is corrosive to everyone who comes into contact with them. Every comment is seen as an accusation and the only thing they are united upon is their hatred for everyone else. When Alice's cousin Kurt is appointed quarantine officer on the island, each tries to turn him against the other in a grotesque dance of power play.

Edgar failed to climb the ranks of the army, a fact that Alice delights in reminding him of. In turn, she didn't reach her own potential, having given up a promising acting career when she married Edgar. Each can only see the death of the other as a means of escape. The comedy is of the blackest type, with both Alice and Edgar relishing the sparring. There is also much sadness amid the venom; two of the couple's children died and the remaining pair escaped as soon as they were able. The servants have left and there is no money to buy food.

Lisa Dillon is juicily sarcastic as Alice, conveying her distain through a clipped voice and small hand gestures. She has brilliantly toxic chemistry with Will Keen as Edgar, who comes across as both a monstrous parody of Basil Fawlty, with a depth of painful selfishness that becomes almost breathtaking in its cruelty. Keen shows huge range in the role, bellowing one moment and then icily quiet. Sparks fly, as you really feel the extent of the hatred the characters feel for each other.

Geoffrey Streatfeild is suitably shocked and bewildered as Kurt, becoming rapidly embroiled in the pair's psychological warfare. Kurt's role is to demonstrate the extent of Alice and Edgar's twisted game where it is impossible to know what is real and what is a lie.

The Orange Tree Theatre is a perfect setting for this production, with the sense of suffocating claustrophobia almost tangible. The oppresiveness ripples into the audience as an atmosphere only can at this intimate venue. Ashley Martin-Davis's set of dark tables, various chairs and even a piano almost tips into the audience, enhancing the smothering atmosphere. Peter Mumford's moody lighting adds to the sense of foreboding. 

It is unavoidable to note the similarities to Covid in the narrative, with strong themes of isolation, mental and physical wellbeing within a world hit by disease. These land harder as we all have experience of these things and many will be able to relate to the boiling tensions that result in being trapped inside with the same person for long durations of time.

Director and adapter Richard Eyre has lifelong form with Ibsen, so is experienced in creating an atmosphere of oppression and emotional asphyxiation in a marriage that Strindberg specialises in. There's a lovely moment where the pair play cards as though throwing darts at one another. It would be easy for Alice and Edgar to become one-dimensional, grotesque vampires, but Eyre brings them to life through their believable mutual hatred and struggle for power. There are no winners here; it's not pretty but it is quite delicious.

Dance of Death is at the Orange Tree Theatre until 7 March