How much was Harold Pinter famously influenced by Samuel Beckett? In his 1964/65 The Homecoming, very little, I’d say. It’s quite a realistic satire with much enigmatic / cryptic subtext to unravel and decipher. Words matter. “They’re my family, not ogres”. First revealing clue.
People talk but does anyone listen is something Chekhov once said. That’s the case from the first scene in this bitter, patriarchal family. A motherless household: women are either Madonna or whore. This is a wounded family with skeletons in the closet. Kind words are never spoken. Strindberg’s Dance of Death might be its tone.
Haze hangs over the thrust stage as we enter the auditorium—is the truth buried in the mists of time? Ibsen’s When We Dead Awaken, maybe for its title, and of course A Doll’s House, might be references, except here the wife leaves the husband and her three American children (such symmetry—or history repeating itself) to stay with his estranged family in the final scene. Pinter apparently said the story came to him from a Jewish friend returning to England from America with a gentile wife…
Whatever the source or influences, its elliptical storyline reveals itself gradually—we piece it together and fill in the spaces, the blackouts. It’s a universal theme, family dynamics, in-laws, dependant relatives (“all happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way”), there’s much to recognise in this period piece if you’re of a certain age.
The men’s way is machismo bravado and phallic cigars, shields against more pain, I’m guessing. Max, the paterfamilias, former butcher who inherited his father’s business and family home, had three sons, whom he ruled with his stick. One, Teddy, left for America with a philosophy doctorate—the odd one out, his mother’s favourite we are later told… Is Max his father… hmm? Surmise, yes we do.
The other two, Lenny and Joey, ignore the dad, who can never face losing face. Lenny is a pimp, sharp too, being and not being bandied about. Joey, not the brightest spark, is training to be a boxer—there’s a funny repeated line about defence and attack. So far so East End: accents, I must say, fluctuate.
There is also Max’s brother Sam, a chauffeur, who also seems to do all the housework, if you know what I mean… It’s hints and innuendos all the time. Sam does a reveal towards the end of the play and promptly collapses. Jessie, the boys’ mother, died five years ago, and these motherless men are needy.
Why does Max think all women are whores? Was Jessie? So when Teddy turns up unannounced one night with wife Ruth whilst they are all asleep, in the morning, Max immediately jumps to that conclusion, Ruth’s a tart.
Well, maybe he is right. Pinter leads us by the nose. What was she before she married Teddy and why did the others not know of the hasty marriage? Whilst Teddy is uncomfortable, turns out she is very comfortable in this environment, in control of this male menagerie.
Teddy wants to leave early; Ruth decides to stay. On her terms, even though initially it seems on Lenny’s terms with a flat in Soho to ply her trade. She wants a proper contract and states her conditions. The final scene is of her sitting in Max’s head-of-the-family chair with Joey’s head on her lap. They are all at her feet, be she Madonna and / or whore. She seduced Joey earlier, but he comes down saying they didn't go the whole hog… craved human kindness is enough.
Family secrets and dated principles... Someone once said that we understand Pinter better as we get older. I first saw the film of the original production many years ago. The last time I saw a stage production of the play was in 2008 with Kenneth Cranham as Max—a gruff man you wouldn't dare to challenge. There was a much-lauded production last year in Bath.
Does Matthew Dunster’s measure up? Pace is dreamy, slack, but I’m sure it will tighten during the run. Moi Tran’s stylish set is sparsely furnished, a large sitting room with a white staircase at the back. Costumes of the period, Ruth in sixties miniskirt and later slinky gown—she looks like a model, which she had been, she says, before marrying Teddy. Another euphemism? Sally Ferguson’s lighting pinpoints items of significance, more clues. George Dennis’s sound design is jazz-based.
Jared Harris’s Max seems to be a mellowed version. He can still bellow, but the bull has had his day. Joe Cole I enjoy for his accent, but he’s not as much of a sleaze-ball as I remember. He’s as needy as the rest. David Angland’s Joey is a big baby, Robert Emms’s Teddy I can’t work out—is anyone there? Has he dulled his emotions to that extent?
Nicolas Tennant quietly steals the scenes he quietly inhabits, and Lisa Diveney’s confidently provocative Ruth… well Ruth is ruthless. The sixties… the beginning of women’s liberation… tables turning?