BWW Opinion: How Do You React To Psychological Cruelty Shown On Stage?

Let me say first where I stand on related issues. I do not believe in censorship (beyond what the law already prescribes for hate speech). I do not believe in trigger warnings - one could hardly get through 20 minutes of Shakespeare without one - but I do think it's wise to indicate that a production includes adult themes, sexual scenes or violence to allow people to avoid such plays if they so choose. And I do not believe that there are issues that playwrights should not address if they wish to - theatre has always challenged convention and often forged a path for other arts to follow.

That said, each member of an audience is free to come to their own views - at the extreme end of potential reactions, walking out (as unobtrusively as possible of course), but also in discussing a production, nowadays on social media with its unpredictable reach in a largely uncontrolled environment. As a reviewer, one must assume an additional responsibility as one has a privileged platform from which to speak and a de facto, if not de jure, obligation to be fair and ground one's opinion in evidence.

So how do audiences react to scenes in which the systematic infliction of psychological pain is portrayed?

I'm going to rule out (at least for 2016) pantomimes, as their context is so well established and so plainly non-realistic - the Ugly Sisters' insults directed at Cinderella are not what this piece is about. I'm also going to rule out the likes of Iago's dismantling of Othello's moral compass, since that is the very crux of the drama - if you're uncomfortable with that stuff, you're in the wrong theatre.

But, to take an example currently garnering rave reviews, what of the relationship between Edith and Little Edie in Grey Gardens? (My somewhat lukewarm reaction is here but there are hugely positive reviews on many other websites.)

The musical is based on a documentary portraying a real-life mother and daughter, so we are invited to consider the material as factual, if embellished a little for dramatic effect. We are introduced to Little Edie as a vibrant, unconventional but perfectly healthy young woman (physically and mentally) whose mother is systematically undermining her self-esteem and opportunities for personal fulfilment. It's not a fate you would wish upon anyone.

So far, so good - this is the warp and weft of the drama of dysfunctional relationships. But when the action is thrown forward 32 years, Little Edie is now incapable of keeping a home that is fit for human habitation, her unconventionality has warped into an eccentricity that prevents her from forming friendships, never mind love affairs, and she is clearly desperately unhappy with her lot. And when her mother flings insults at her (we can surmise that Little Edie has had three decades of this), the audience laughs. That she gets a few jabs back at her mother is immaterial - this is a woman whose mental wellbeing has been dismantled and replaced with a psychological hold that is cruel beyond description. Should we laugh at the means by which this awful state of affairs has been created? I caught myself doing so at one point and instantly regretted it.

An enlightened view gaining ground suggests that we should consider mental illness in the same way that we consider physical illness - just because we can't see it, doesn't mean to say it is any less real, any less vicious in its impact on its victims. Though it's a moot point whether Little Edie is mentally ill, there is no doubt that her suffering is mental and no doubt about its source - her domineering mother. Should we not extend the opinion that "mental illness is the equivalent of physical illness" to view the infliction of mental pain to be the equivalent of the infliction of physical pain? Would audiences laugh if Edith were beating her daughter the way Lorca's Bernarda Alba does - with a stick? Would audiences see Edith in the same light if she locked her daughter in a room the better to confine her to the house? (Her psychological grip is every bit as effective, after all.) Would audiences look on with equanimity if Little Edie's body was scarred and damaged? (I've seen people look away and flinch when characters show bruises or other signs of injury on stage.)

I tried to convey some of my unease in my review, but I was surprised that, at least in the reviews I've read, this aspect of Grey Gardens was glossed over or ignored - which is, of course, a reviewer's right. I would not have walked out even if I were able to do so with minimal disturbance, but, especially since I reviewed the film Amy (pictured), I have reassessed what I think about people who inflict mental suffering on those (often, though not always, women) more vulnerable and significantly less powerful than themselves. Like 1970s racist comedians and realistic rape scenes in movies, I don't want to watch it and I certainly don't want to laugh at it. But I do think we should talk about it.

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